See Me
by KinoFille
Summary: Luke asks Lorelai to see what's right in front of her. [COMPLETE]
1. Jailhouse Rock

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Author's Note: I don't own none of it. Not _Gilmore Girls. _Not George Clooney. Not any of the other pop culture texts that may pop up over the course of the story. I _wish_ I owned George Clooney. And Scott Patterson. Mmmm, a George Clooney/Scott Patterson sandwich . . .

And now, on with the show . . .

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

If Lorelai hadn't known better, she'd swear she was being Punk'd. _Any minute Ashton Kutcher is going to walk through the door_, she thought, _laughing and pointing and shouting 'Gotcha!' Hmmm. . .I wonder if he's still with Demi . . ._ She roused herself from her thoughts. Punk'd had been canceled—she cursed the Gods of Trash T.V.—and this was reality.

She was standing before the one cell in the Stars Hollow Jail. Waiting to bail out Luke Danes.

She crossed slowly and quietly, and leaned against the bars of the cell. "Pssst!" Luke stirred, and turned to look at her. 

"The Super Bowl Party's been moved from next Sunday to this Sunday," she stage-whispered.

"What?"

"I said, 'The Super Bowl Party's been moved from next Sunday to this Sunday."

"Lorelai, what in the hell are you talking about?"

"It's from_ Out of Sight_. George Clooney. Jailbird humor."

Luke stood up and came toward the cell door. "Oh. Right. Well, hey, I'm laughing on the inside."

"So, whatcha in for, Sparky? Dirty coppers raid your speakeasy again? You get caught holding up the Deadwood Stage?"

He sighed and rolled his eyes. "Did you come to torture me or to bail me outta here?"

"Oh, I think I can do both at the same time," she grinned. "I'm all about multi-tasking."

"Lucky me."

"I'm just standing here, trying to figure out how Luke Danes, mild-mannered, tree-hugging, veggie-eating, flannel-wearing diner owner and pillar of the community ended up in the slammer.  


"I--"

"the clink--"

"Lorelai--"

"the hoosegow--"

"Stop it!"

"Hey! Watch it, Cool Hand Luke—Hee! Cool Hand Luke! If you're not nice to me, I'll just leave you here. You'll end up being sent Up the River for twenty years and becoming the girlfriend of a big bald guy named Shirley. I hear flannel really turns them on in the Big House."

"Aw, Jeez ."

Lorelai opened her mouth to torture him some more, but at that moment Coop entered and unlocked the cell door. "Okay, Luke you're free to go now. Here's your stuff, and I just need you to sign these." He handed Luke a couple of papers, along with his wallet and his blue baseball cap.

At the sight of the hat, Lorelai gave a gasp of mock outrage. "They took your_ hat_ from you? That's just like the pigs. Throw a man in the joint and take away everything that matters to him. That's cruel and unusual punishment. You don't have to take this, Luke. You should report them to the Geneva Convention. Fight the power! F- tha Police!"

Luke glared at Lorelai, then turned to Coop. "How much more time would I get for a justifiable homicide?"

Coop just laughed. Like the rest of Stars Hollow, he'd been watching and enjoying the Luke and Lorelai Show for years. "You two have a good night. And Luke, you stay out of trouble, now, y'hear?" 

"I'll try," Luke said as he followed Lorelai out the door. From the other side of the door, Coop could hear Lorelai singing.

"_Warden threw a party in the County Jail . . ._"

"Would you stop?!?"

******************* 

After a brief, quiet ride, they pulled up to the diner. Without even asking, Lorelai followed Luke inside. Instead of taking his usual spot behind the counter, Luke slumped into a chair at a table near the door. He ran his hands over his face and let out a sigh that was part exhaustion, part frustration. Lorelai sat down next to him.

"So, what happened?" she asked seriously. She knew The Mock Luke Hour Starring Lorelai Gilmore was over. 

"Nothing."

"Nothing? So, what, you just thought to yourself, 'hey, it's a slow night, think I'll go hang out at the jail for awhile'?"

"I mean, it was just a bar fight. It's no big deal."

"I know it was a bar fight. Coop told me. But, Luke, it is a big deal. First, off, you don't fight. Well, except that time you wailed on Dean for breaking Rory's heart. And I seem to recall you smacking Jess upside the head a couple of times. Come to think of it, you do seem to have this weird thing about beating up on teenage boys."

"Lorelai . . ."

"And second, you don't go to bars. What were you doing hanging out at a dive like Brodie's, anyway?"

The bitterness in Luke's laugh startled her. "What, isn't that what every soon-to-be-divorced guy is supposed to do? Go down to the local seedy bar and drown his sorrows with the rest of the losers?"

"You are_ not_ a loser. And what do you mean, 'soon-to-be-divorced'?" Lorelai tried to keep her tone even. "Have you guys decided to split up after all?"

"Well, apparently Nicole has."

"Is that what she says?"

"No, but her sleeping with someone else is probably a pretty good indicator that she's heading in that general direction."

Lorelai tried to stifle a gasp and failed. "She's cheating on you? How do you know?"

"I called and some guy answered the phone."

"Well, that could have been anything. Just because there's a guy in her house doesn't mean--"

"It was 6:15. In the morning."

"Oh." Lorelai was shocked. She'd never really liked Nicole, but she couldn't believe she'd actually cheat on Luke. What woman would want some other guy when she could have Luke? He was good and kind and made the best coffee in world and had the prettiest eyes. . . At the thought of Luke's pretty eyes, Lorelai mentally slapped her own hand. _Bad Lorelai. Bad. We do not think about Luke's pretty blue eyes. Or his nice, full lips. Gah! Where did that come from? No. Stop. This is Luke. Friend in need. Emphasis on friend. _With herculean effort she tore her mind away from Luke's facial features and back to his marital woes. "God, Luke, I'm sorry. Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Are you sure, 'cause--"

"No."

"I could--"

"No."

Lorelai sighed. "Okay." 

Luke stretched, and looked at her as if he'd just seen her for the first time that night. "You look nice," he said, taking in her black dress and strappy heels. "Hot date?"

"Eh. Lukewarm." She giggled at her own pun. "Hee! Geddit? Luke. Warm." She hoped her lame attempt at a joke would distract Luke from asking any more about her evening. In fact, Lorelai had been in the middle of . . .well, she'd been with Jason. But since she'd been dating Jason for months and never officially told Luke about him, she felt weird bringing him up now. She didn't know why she hadn't told Luke—it had just always felt strange to talk to him about her boyfriends. Suddenly, Rory's words came back to her. _He's always had a thing about your guys . . ._

For his part, Luke figured she'd been on a date, but he already knew more about Lorelai and That Guy than he wanted to. He'd been hearing Patty and Babette talk about Lorelai and Mr. New York with the Fancy Car for weeks. He thought he'd even seen them together before, one morning when Lorelai's jeep was stopped in front of the diner. He was also pretty sure that That Guy was the same jerk in the Mercedes who'd tailgated him through town the same morning. He sighed, wondering how many more idiots she'd have to go through before she'd look across the counter and see him. Really see him.

Lorelai, misunderstanding Luke's sigh, stood up and picked up her purse. "Oh. Yeah. I should probably get going and let you get some rest." She looked at him closely. "Are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah. I'll be fine. By tomorrow the crippling humiliation will have receded to lingering embarrassment."

"Okay, well, call me if you need anything." As she reached the diner door, she couldn't resist one parting shot. "Hey, Luke."

"Yeah?"

She put on her best t.v. detective voice. "Don't go leaving town, now, y'hear?"


	2. The Talk of the Town

**Disclaimer:** Still don't own any of it. Still wish I had my own personal Luke.

**Author's Note:** Thanks for all the kind—and quick!—reviews on Chapter 1. It's especially gratifying that folks I've been reading and enjoying myself have had such nice things to say. This is my first (public) attempt at a fanfic, and I'm glad you guys are enjoying it. 

The next morning, Lorelai headed to the diner to check on Luke. _Must. Not. Mock,_ she told herself sternly as she walked through the door. _Very serious situation. _Luke was standing at the register, looking grumpy and more than a little scruffy—in other words, not much different than he did on a morning that didn't come after a night involving handcuffs—_dirty!_

Hey," she said as she approached the counter. "How's it feel to be on the outside?" She pulled a sympathetic face. "Are you adjusting okay? 'Cause I heard that some guys, after they do their time, have trouble getting re-oriented into society. Like that old guy in _The Shawshank Redemption_? He had such a rough time that he--"

Luke just looked at her. "Are you done yet?"

"Almost," she giggled. "Ooh! But Rory said to tell you that next time you decide to get picked up by the fuzz, let her know ahead of time so she can call Johnny Cochran for you."

"You told _Rory_?!? Aw, jeez. . ."

"Hey. Burger Man of Alcatraz. Relax. She asked me where I was at 1:00 this morning, and I told her I was with you. And since I didn't want my impressionable young daughter to get the wrong idea when I said I was 'with Luke' at 1 AM, I had to tell her the whole story. But trust me, she's totally cool. They're studying 60s radicals in her American history class, and she compared you to Tom Hayden. I don't exactly know who he is, but I'm pretty sure she meant it as a compliment." What Lorelai didn't tell Luke was that they spent much more time talking about the impending Luke/Nicole breakup than they did his jail time.

Luke tried to focus on what Lorelai said after her "with Luke" comment, but the rest was just a blur. When Lorelai finished talking, he knew some kind of response was expected, so he just sighed and shook his head. It was a good, all-purpose, universal Luke gesture, and he figured it would apply to whatever-the-hell it was she'd just said.

"So," she said, shifting into serious mode. "How are things going?"

Luke rolled his eyes. "Well, apparently word has gotten out that I was on a drunken, murderous rampage last night."

"Oh, my."

"Oh, yeah. Taylor was at my door first thing, screaming about how I was a bad example to the community and as a business owner I should know better. And Patty's been in here no less than five times, alternating between calling me 'poor dear' and trying to feel my biceps."

Lorelai couldn't help giggling. "Oh, man. You've been getting it from all sides, haven't you?"

"Yup." Suddenly, a sly smile twitched at the corner of his lips. "I did, however, discover one side benefit to this whole Luke 'Mad Dog' Danes thing,."

"Really? What?"

"Watch," he whispered. He walked slowly down to the other end of the counter, where Kirk was busily circling Help Wanted ads. Luke stood in front of him, crossed his arms over his chest, and just watched him. After a second, Kirk looked up to see Luke before him. He turned pale, gulped, and picked up his newspaper. "I have to . . .my girlfriend . . .uh . . ." And with that, he scooted off the chair and out the door.

Lorelai laughed and clapped her hands. "That? Is the coolest thing ever. Hey, can I use you next time Tom goes over budget or over schedule on the Dragonfly?"

"That's what I'm here for." He poured her a cup of coffee. 

Lorelai waited for one of Luke's patented anti-Juan Valdez rants. Maybe a round of "Do You Have Any Idea What Caffeine Does to Your Central Nervous System?" Or at least a brief rendition of "This Stuff'll Kill Ya." When none of the typical Luke arguments were forthcoming, she knew he still wasn't quite back to his usual curmudgeonly self. "Okay, really," she said quietly. "How is, you know, everything?"

Luke hesitated, not really wanting to talk about his disintegrating marriage with the woman he . . well, with Lorelai. _Aw, suck it up_, he thought. _The woman bailed you out of jail last night, for cryin' out loud_. He looked around to make sure they couldn't be overheard by the few late-morning customers still in the diner. "Well," he sighed. "I talked to Nicole a little while ago."

"And . . .?"

He nodded. "It's a guy in her firm. For a few weeks now."

"Oh, man. I am so sorry, Luke. Really."

"Yeah, well." He gave her a 'whaddaya gonna do?' shrug. "Anyway, I'm going to Litchfield tonight so we can get stuff . . . finalized or whatever, then I think I'm gonna take off for a while. Clear my head."

"Good idea," she nodded. "Go up to your cabin, do that whole Iron John getting-in-touch-with-your-inner-male thing, then come back all rugged and mountain man-y." She looked at his flannel shirt and three-day growth of beard. "Or, at least, you know, _more_ mountain man-y."

"Actually, I'm not going to the cabin. I'm going to New York."

Lorelai nearly choked to keep from spitting out her coffee. "Okay, I think all that LSD my mother claims she didn't do in the '60s is giving me some sort of weird generation-skipping hallucinations. Did you just say you're going to _New York_?"

"Yeah. Liz called this morning--"

"Boy, you have had a banner day, haven't you?"

Luke chuckled. "Oh, yeah. Anyway, she really wants me to come visit. And since I was, as T.J/Gary/WhateverHisNameIs so finely put it, a 'dick' last time they were here, I thought it might be good to go spend some time with her." He gave a hollow, self-deprecating chuckle. "At least she'll be able to take comfort in the fact that she's not the only screw-up in the family."

"Okay, that's enough. Luke, you are not a screw-up. You are a good guy, and you tried to make the best of a . . . weird situation. You didn't commit adultery, Nicole did. And you know what? It's her loss. _You'd_ sure never cheat on _her_."

Luke blushed and seemed to have trouble meeting her eye. "No," he said quietly. "I wouldn't."

The silence hung heavy between them for a few seconds. Finally, Lorelai looked at her watch. "Oh, man. If I don't get to the inn soon Michel's gonna pout all day and curse at me in French under his breath." She looked at Luke. "So, look, have a good trip. And try to relax a little, okay?. It's all gonna work out." She slid off her stool. "I'll see you when you get back?"

Luke nodded. "Yeah, I'll probably be gone a week or two. Or as long as I can take it, anyway."

"Well, try not to kill T-Gary-J while you're there."

"I make no promises." He managed to grin. "I'm a dangerous ex-con, remember?"

************** 

When Lorelai arrived at the Dragonfly a few minutes later, Michel was standing behind what would soon be a fully operational reservations desk, already in full Michel Pout Mode.

"Good morning, Michel!" Lorelai called with exaggerated, obviously insincere sweetness.

Michel didn't even look up at her. "It is not morning. It is nearly noon. And I refuse to talk to you while the odor of bacon grease and coffee cling to your person like a cheap drugstore perfume. By the way, Sookie has been waiting for you all morning, pacing and panting like an over-eager puppy. She is in the kitchen."

"You know, Michel, if you're this charming and helpful with the customers, we'll be fully booked every weekend. People will come from all over the northeast just to see the Dragonfly's Snooty French Front Desk Guy."

"Do not try to flatter me. Go, find Sookie before she hyperventilates and collapses and I must do her job as well as yours and my own."

Lorelai headed off to the kitchen. She'd barely made it through door before Sookie came bounding up to her.

"So . . .?"

"So . . .I definitely think Nick and Jessica are going to get divorced. I mean, her career is going so much better than his, and he's just too much of a macho man to handle the little wifey outshining him. You totally see the tension every time they're on screen together. It's so sad, too. I used to think they were such a cute couple."

Sookie swatted her on the arm. "C'mon, you know what I mean. Everybody's talking about you and Luke and a fight and jail. Spill it!"

"And just what is 'everybody' saying?"

"Well, actually, there are a couple of different versions going around. Taylor says Luke got into a fight with one of your old boyfriends. Patty says you and Luke were both at Brodie's, and Luke punched out some guy who made a pass at you. Oh, and the Town Troubadour already has a three-minute ballad where you and Luke got into a passionate lover's quarrel and nearly demolished the place. It's really quite touching. Very 'Frankie and Johnny.' "

Lorelai shook her head. "I swear, sometimes living here is like being on some quirky small-town family dramedy on the WB. Okay, first of all, I was not at Brodie's. I was not in the fight. I did not cause the fight. I did not see the fight. I was in no way connected to the fight. Only the aftermath, during which Luke called me at 1AM to bail him out of jail."

"Wow! Luke in jail! Boy, I should have known. It's the quiet ones that have all the repressed passion and energy. So he called you at 1:00 to come bust him out? That's so cool!"

"Yeah, well, it didn't seem very cool at the time. Jason and I were in the middle of . . . anyway, let's just say that the call for help didn't come at the most opportune time." She giggled. "Poor Jason."

Sookie shook her head. "Whoa. Whoa. Hold on just a minute. Are you telling me that you and Jason were . . . and you just took off to go rescue Luke?"

"Well, yeah. What was I supposed to do? He sounded terrible, and he didn't have anyone else to call."

"Uh-huh."

"'Uh-huh, what?'"

"'Uh-huh,' you were in the middle of getting it on with your boyfriend and you ran off to be with Luke at the drop of a hat."

"I did not 'run off to be with Luke.' I went to help a friend. That's all."

"Uh-huh."

"Again with the 'uh-huh.'"

"Sweetie, if you can't see the truth right in front of you . . ."

"Sookie, please do not start that 'Luke and Lorelai' crap again. We are just friends, okay? Just. Friends. I'm thinking of having it tattooed across my forehead. 'Luke and I are Just Friends.' Maybe in a nice purple script with a flower or something."

"Uh-huh."

"Okay, Sook? You've really gotta stop 'uh-huh-ing' me, 'cause it's starting to piss me off. Luke is a married man . . ."

"Not for much longer, from what I hear"

". . .and I have a boyfriend," Lorelai finished, ignoring Sookie's remark.

"Yeah, one who can't even sleep in the same bed as you."

Lorelai groaned and rolled her eyes. "Remind to never give you the intimate details of my love-life again."

"Sorry, honey. Just trying to help."

"Yeah, well, you can help by slipping Michel some Prozac and making me a big pot of coffee." Lorelai sighed as she walked out of the kitchen.

It was going to be a long day.


	3. New York Stories

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Disclaimer: Still don't own anything but the story. Still don't have a Luke of my own. 

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Author's Note: Thanks again for all the great feedback! This is getting fun—and addictive!

Luke stood on the patio of his sister's apartment watching a group of kids playing in the courtyard below. He'd been at Liz and T.J.'s (only Liz got to call him "Gary") for a little over a week, and the visit had gone much better than he'd ever expected. T.J. still wasn't the sharpest tool in the box, but he'd turned out to be a decent guy who shared Luke's love of baseball—even if he was a Yankees fan—and fishing. He even apologized to Luke for the "dick" comment. But most important to Luke, he was genuinely nuts about Liz and seemed to want nothing more than to take of her and make her happy. On the first day of the visit Liz told Luke she and T. J. were getting married—_We're joining our energies together forever!_—and Luke thought they had a really good shot at making it work.

He sighed as he thought of his own screwed-up love life. His last visit with Nicole had been about as much of a non-event as the rest of their relationship. There hadn't been much to settle when he got to her place--with no shared property and no kids, the end of their non-marriage-marriage was going to be quick and relatively painless. _Except for the humiliation_, he thought to himself. After they'd finished what seemed like an appropriately inconsequential amount of paperwork, they'd gone out for a final dinner as a married couple. They'd sat throughout most of the meal without saying much of anything. But as they were finishing their coffee, Nicole had looked him in the eye for the first time that night.

__

"Listen," she began nervously.

"Yeah?"

"I just want you to know . . . I mean, I'm not trying to justify . . . I just want you to know why."

"I know why. You weren't happy. You met someone else. Seems pretty clear to me."

"But I want you to know why _I wasn't happy."_

"Obviously because I couldn't make you happy."

"That's not true." There were tears in her eyes now. "I wanted you. I wanted us. I think we could have been great together. But I couldn't be in this relationship alone. Not anymore."

"So this was all my fault."

"No, of course not. I'm as much at fault as you are. For one thing, I shouldn't have kept trying to hold on to you after I saw . . ."

"Saw what?"

Nicole took a deep breath and looked him straight in the eye. "Luke, do you have any idea what it's been like for me to try to be married to you, to keep trying to work things out, knowing that you're in love with Lorelai?"

Luke just stared at her. No one had ever come out and said it before. Sure, everyone had hinted around at it—some of them even got really annoying about it—but no one had actually said the words. "Nicole . . ." he began weakly.

Nicole shook her head. "Don't. I couldn't take another denial. Not tonight." She sighed deeply. "Just do me a favor, please?

"Sure. I guess. What is it?"

"Just be sure that you make it worth the trouble."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, don't let us have ended for no reason. If you love her and really want to be with her, then tell her. Try to make it work. Don't let me think you preferred some fantasy you're not even willing to follow through on to being with me."

The patio door opened, shaking Luke from his memory. "Hey, there," Liz said. "Thought you might want some tea." She handed Luke a mug.

"Thanks."

"You'll love it. It's Gary's special blend."

Luke looked at her skeptically. " 'Special' as in hand-brewed and tasty, or 'special' as in containing government-banned hallucinogens?"

Liz giggled. "Man, would you chill? I told you I don't do that stuff anymore. And Gary? He's totally clean. Never touched the stuff."

"Well that's . . . good, I guess." 

"So."

"So." Luke took a sip of the tea—which really was quite good—and looked around. "I gotta hand it to you, sis. It looks like you're really got something for yourself here." He turned and looked at his sister. She seemed completely content with her life, like she'd finally found just what she'd been looking for. "Listen," he began quietly. "I know I act like a self-righteous jerk sometimes—okay a lot of the time—and I know I treat you like some kind of . . . I don't know . . . problem child, I guess. But you know I only ever wanted you to be happy, right?"

"I know. And I'm sorry I've been such a disappointment to you."

Luke flinched, remembering Jess's final shot. _You set people up so that when they fail they feel like they've disappointed you._ "You are not a disappointment, and I'm really, really sorry if I've ever made you feel that way. You've built a good life for yourself and you've got someone to love who loves you back." He paused. "I know I haven't said it, but I'm proud of you."

Liz beamed at Luke for a minute, then threw herself at him, hugging him tightly.

"Hey, hey, watch the tea!" 

"You have know idea what that means coming from you."

Luke gently detached himself from his sister. "Yeah, I'm such a shining example of achievement."

"You are! You've got great friends, your own business, an important place in your community . . ."

" . . . a failed marriage that wasn't really a marriage in the first place . . ."

"Hey, now! No more of that negativity, okay? Nicole just wasn't the one the Universe had in mind for you, that's all. You hang in there, and the right woman will be revealed to you."

He raised an eyebrow. "You're not gonna try to read these tea leaves, are you?"

"Nah. I leave that to the professionals." She was silent for a minute. "Hey, listen, I keep forgetting to ask you. Who'd you ever end up giving the earrings to?" 

"Oh, _that's_ subtle."

"What? I'm just asking."

Luke rolled his eyes. "I gave them to Lorelai. And no, that is not some mystic sign from the Great Cosmic Beyond. She was there. They were her style. That's it."

Liz shrugged and smiled. "If you say so."

That evening, in honor of Luke's last night in New York, Liz and T. J. threw a small party. It was mostly couples, many of them friends from the Renaissance Fair circuit. Luke had expected a bunch of hippie freaks in velvet and feathers, but they were all pretty nice and relatively normal. Well, maybe that Albert guy was a little obsessed with _Lord of the Rings_ fan fiction, but he was no weirder than Kirk. _Okay, maybe not the best comparison_, he chuckled to himself. But overall, he found himself enjoying the party and almost—almost—forgetting about Nicole. And Lorelai. Almost.

Sometime during the evening he found himself standing by the stereo (T. J. had introduced Liz, the Pink Floyd fan, to the wonders of Otis Redding and Al Green) watching his sister and her fiancé. Liz was telling Albert one of her "man, you'll never believe this!" stories, her eyes shining and her hands waving around punctuating every point. T. J. stood next to her, just looking her with such adoration Luke was almost embarrassed to watch. 

"They're such a great couple, aren't they?" Luke turned to find Nina, Albert's wife, standing next to him and following his gaze.

"Yeah. Great."

"I tell ya, we thought those two were _never_ gonna happen."

"Really?" Luke was intrigued. Liz had never really said how she and T. J. had gotten together. He'd just assumed they'd hooked up a few month's ago.

"Oh, yeah," Nina continued. "They lived in the same building for, like, six years and they'd hang out all the time—as 'friends.' T. J.'s even the one who got Liz on the circuit." She chuckled. "Poor guy."

"Why 'poor guy'?"

"Well, he was just crazy about her from the very beginning. But the little doofus would never get off his ass and do anything about it."

"So, what happened?"

"I'm not exactly sure what brought about the big change. But one night we're packing up after a fair in Trenton. All of a sudden, T. J. comes riding up on this big white horse he'd borrowed from the jousting demonstration. He pulls up in front of Liz, says 'Elizabeth Danes, I love you and want you to be the fair lady in my life,' then he literally sweeps her up onto the horse with him and they ride off into the night."

"Wow."

"You're telling me," she chuckled. "None of us thought he had it in him." She looked fondly at the couple in question. "But look at them—they're just so in love. They are just such a beautiful, positive thing." She turned back to Luke. "Hey, did you see the booth he built her?"

"No, I didn't get the . . . opportunity."

"Oh, you should see it. It's just gorgeous. T. J. made it all himself. Even hand-carved all these horses and crests and knight's helmets and stuff into the posts—very medieval. It's the envy of the whole circuit." She sighed. "I tell ya, it takes real love to make something that beautiful."

"Yeah," said Luke, thinking of the one and only time he'd hand-carved a gift for a woman. "I guess it does."

Later that night Luke lay on Liz's couch, unable to even pretend to sleep. He didn't need everyone to tell him he loved Lorelai. He knew it. And for a long time, his feelings hadn't infringed on his day-to-day life. They were just there in the background, like white noise. Or at least that's what he'd thought. But now there was no running away from it. His feelings for Lorelai—or, more precisely, his inability to do anything about those feelings—had cost him two relationships in four years. He'd been able to tell himself that Rachel was using Lorelai as an excuse to bail on him, but Nicole hadn't given him such an easy out. He was in love with Lorelai, and no fishing trip, no new girlfriend, no amount of wiping down that damn counter to keep from picking her up in his arms and telling her how he felt could change it. _So what are you gonna do about it, Big Guy?_ his inner voice taunted him. _You gonna ride a white horse up to the Dragonfly and sweep her off into the sunset? Yeah, Right. You're every woman's idea of a knight in shining armor._

He rolled over, punched up his pillow, and sighed. _Screw it, _he thought. Tomorrow he'd be back in Stars Hollow. Back in his safe little space behind that counter. She'd come in, smile, and ask him how his trip went. Maybe she'd even try to do something to cheer him up. Then she'd ask for a cup of coffee, he'd lecture, she'd pout or tease or come up with some crazy logic to get her way, and he'd give in.

Just like he always did.


	4. Dinner at Eight

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Disclaimer: Consider yourself(ves) disclaimed.

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A/N: You guys are still so great with all your feeback and encouragement!

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gluglug: You're absolutely right that Jess would have met T. J. if Liz had known him for so long. My bad! (I was more concerned that Luke wouldn't have met him before or known the story). And I was definitely thinking they would live in Brooklyn or Queens (are they still affordable?) and not Manhattan. Should have been clearer about that. If you—or anyone else here—spot any more bloopers, please let me know! Thanks!

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Shameless Show Tie-In Plug: I just got Grant-Lee Phillips's (The Town Troubadour) _Virginia Creeper_ and am listening to it as I write this. You guys? Get it. Listen to it. Love it. Seriously.

Okay, end product endorsement. On with the show . . .

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For Lorelai, the week Luke was away passed in a blur of contractor meetings, order forms, and paint samples. On Friday afternoon she sat in her makeshift office just enjoying the ten minutes of alone time she'd managed to carve out for herself. The opening of the Dragonfly was only a few weeks away, and she was starting to feel almost as crazed as Lucy was in that episode where Lucy and Ethel got the job at the candy factory and the conveyor belt went so fast they had to shove chocolates in their mouths just to keep up. _Now that is a job_, she thought. _Working with your best friend and all the chocolate you can eat._ She took a deep, satisfied breath and looked around her. _Nah. This is the best job._ Next to raising a happy and healthy kid, owning her own inn had been her biggest dream. And now it was going to become a reality. Her reality. She thought again of all the people who had been a part of this dream: Rory, Sookie, Fran—_God rest her soul and thank you very much for not striking us with lightning bolts for negotiating at her funeral—_and Luke. Especially Luke. 

For the millionth time that week, she wondered how Luke was doing. He'd been down on himself for a while now, and she hated to hear him call himself a "loser" and a "screw-up." If only he could see what an amazing person he was, and how much he meant to so many people. She'd joked about him being her "knight in shining armor," but it was true. Next to Rory and Sookie he meant more to her than almost anyone else in her life—and a lot of the time, although she'd never tell Sookie, he placed second on the list. That's why she had to go bail him out that night. Not because she was hot for him or wanted a fling with him, but because he was her friend and he'd always been there for her and he mattered. That's all. _Then why couldn't you tell Jason where you were really going?_ a voice whispered at the back of her mind. _Because it would be weird,_ she replied. _Because deep down you've always wanted to be with Luke,_ retorted the voice. _I do not! Shut up!_

Just as Lorelai was starting to feel like Gollum in her own version of _Lord of the Rings: The Two Lorelais_, her cell phone rang. She roused herself and looked at the caller ID. It was Jason.

"Helloooo?" She answered in her phone sex operator voice.

"What are you wearing?"

Lorelai giggled. "A nun's habit. Complete with wimple and veil."

"Now, see, for some men that would be a turn-off. Me? I find it highly erotic."

"So _that's_ why you got all frisky the night we watched _The Sound of Music._"

"I can't lie. Women in veils and rosaries get me worked up. I think it's the whole potential for punishment thing. It's incredibly hot. I'm pretty sure I felt my first stirrings of sexual awakening while watching _Flying Nun_ re-runs as a kid."

"Aww! Wasn't Sally Field adorable?"

"Oh, yeah. Plus she had the white robes and the whole flying thing going for her, and . . .I'm going straight to hell, aren't I?"

Lorelai giggled again. "Nah. Say three "I Dream of Jeannie"s, two "Bewitched," and go forth and lust after 60s TV ingenues no more." She leaned back and placed her feet up on her desk. "So, besides impure thoughts about Sally Field, what are you up to?"

"Well, I'm waiting for your father so we can go pick up the world's most boring group of British wool manufacturers and take them to a hot new downtown club whose cutting edge design, trendy drinks and hip clientele will be totally lost on them."

"And I'm sure you're going to hate being surrounded by all those skinny blonde girls prancing around in their strappy dresses and Manolo Blahniks, sipping apple-tinis."

"You've been reading _InStyle_ again, haven't you? Trust me. These over-highlighted, over-manicured Manhattan types do nothing for me. To be honest, they just make nervous." 

"Everything makes you nervous."

"I had _one _little case of flop sweat after talking to your mother! And most of that was your fault!" Lorelai could hear a knock over the phone, and Jason lowered his voice. "Look, that's probably your father. I'd better go. I'll call you later."

"Okay. Have fun. Drink a choco-tini for me."

Lorelai hung up and smiled. She liked Jason. She really did. He was quirky in all the same ways she was, and he gave her plenty of space so she didn't feel like she needed to pull a Runaway Gilmore. True, there had been a minor freak-out when he'd given her the key to his place, but it was cool now. It wasn't like he wanted to live with her or anything. She tried to ignore the fact that she still hadn't given _him_ a key to _her_ house. _It'll happen,_ she told herself. _First, we have to survive Hurricane Emily when she finds out we've been sneaking around behind her back for months._ At the thought of her mother and the realization of what day it was, Lorelai let out an audible groan.

Friday night dinner in Hartford. And for the first time in a long time, no Luke for a post-dinner post-mortem.

**********************

That night, Lorelai pulled up to Emily's just as Rory was getting out of her car.

"What up, Dee?" she cried, giving her daughter a hug.

"How come you always get to be Cher and I always have to be Dee?"

"Forty-two hours of labor, babe."

"You've been using that argument my whole life."

"I know. I'm nothing if not consistent." She linked her arm through Rory's as they walked to the front door. "Hey, I know. Why don't we blow of seventh and eighth and go see the new Christian Slater?"

"You forgot the part about the 'calorie fest.'

"It's 'cal fest,' and it's not in that scene."

"It is so."

"Is not."

"Is so."

"Is--" Lorelai stopped in mid-taunt when Emily opened the door. Apparently, another Gimore domestic employee had bitten the dust.

"Well, there you both are! Come in!" She ushered them both into the house. "Rory, you're looking lovely this evening. That blouse is very becoming."

"Thanks, Grandma."

Emily narrowed her eyes as she looked at Lorelai. "What's the matter with your hair?"

Lorelai shrugged. "I dunno. It finally came to terms with the fact that it would never be a prima ballerina and just lost the will to live?"

"Be serious. It looks all . . . flat. It lacks luster. Honestly, Lorelai, you'll never find a man if you don't start putting more effort into your appearance."

"After all, it is a truth universally acknowledged that a single mother in possession of a new business must be in want of a life," Rory intoned.

"But, of course" Lorelai scoffed. "Mom, could you please drop the Mrs. Bennet act for two seconds? Besides, you'd lack luster too if you'd been rudely awakened by a freezing cold shower this morning."

"Hot water heater's on the fritz?" asked Rory sympathetically.

"Lorelai, if your hot water heater isn't working you should get a plumber out right away."

"Gee, mom. I'm so glad I have you to guide me. Here I was, all ready to take icy showers for the rest of my life, like those guys who do that polar bear swimming thing."

"You needn't get snippy. I'm merely suggesting you have someone look at it before it explodes or leaks and you have real problems."

"I will, Mom. I'll get Luke to check it out when he gets a chance."

"Luke?"

__

Oops. Stepped right into that one. I must be tired.

"Luke the ice man? That Luke?"

"No, Luke, the writer of the third Gospel. He's gonna come check on the plumbing as soon as he's done writing up that whole 'arising from the dead on the third day' story."

Emily rolled her eyes at Lorelai's sarcastic remark. "So, this man now does your home repairs as well?"

"Hey, Grandma," Rory broke in, taking Emily's arm "did I tell you there's going to be an article about your DAR fundraiser in the alumni newsletter?

  
"Really?" Emily responded as Rory led into the living room. "Well, I certainly hope they print a more flattering picture than the one they used from the Arts Council Christmas ball. That one made me look like Shelly Winters after a two-week bender."

Rory glanced back and Lorelai mouthed a thank you. _I have trained my child well,_ she thought with satisfaction.

For the next hour, the evening was relatively uneventful. Then, as dessert was served, fate, fatigue, and Emily Gilmore's sinister powers of manipulation took over. 

It started innocently enough.

"So, Grandma, Grandpa's still in New York?"

Emily rolled her eyes. "Yes, he and Jason are taking their clients to some tacky club with a lot of over-priced drinks and cheap women. Last night they were at some place called Pulsar and apparently this woman got up on a table and danced practically naked."

Lorelai's spoonfull of chocolate mousse stopped midway to her mouth. "Wait! Wait! Dad went to a strip club?"

"No, she wasn't a stripper. Apparently she's some kind of heiress—new money, of course. London Hyatt, or some such."

"Paris Hilton?"

"That's it! Paris Hilton. Honestly, I don't see why they think taking clients out and getting them liquored up in some cheap nightspot is preferable to a tasteful party. Of course, even when they do throw a party, they hire some so-called 'party planner' who thinks seaweed is an appetizer and the most important aspect of a cocktail is a 'fun' color." 

"Yeah, well, I wish I could hire a party planner," Lorelai said absently. "Sookie and I have been so busy getting the inn ready to open that we haven't been able to put much time in to planning the opening itself." The words were out of her mouth before she realized what she'd said.

"Well, I should think that it would be easy enough to pull it together, " said Emily mildly. "I assume Sookie will do the catering?"

"Actually, between the baby and the inn, she won't have time to cater the party." _No no no no no! Stop talking, Lorelai! Just stop talking._

"Well, I'd be glad to give you the names of some reliable caterers. Of course, you've hired the band."

"We're working on it." 

"And what about a decorative scheme?"

"We're, uh, still considering options." Lorelai was beginning to see how Han and Chewie felt when the Millennium Falcon got sucked into the evil Death Star's magnetic field.

"Well, for heaven's sake Lorelai, the opening's only a few weeks away, and you don't have food or music or--"

"Fine, Mom!" Lorelai exploded. "Since you know so much, why don't _you_ plan it?" _Ooh, that's not good. Alert! Alert! Danger, Lorelai Gilmore! Danger! We have a maternal breach of the social and business perimeters!_

"Hah! Like you'd ever let me near your precious opening."

Lorelai did what she always did when Emily backed her against a wall. She pushed in the opposite direction. "How do you know I wouldn't?"

"I just know."

"You do _not_ know. I could be sitting here dying for you to help out. I could be praying to Zeus, and Thor, and all those other macho god-types for you to step in and say 'Of course, Lorelai, I'd love to take over planning your opening.'" _Wait. That's not right._

"So you're saying you do want me to help?"

"Well, I'm not saying I _don't_."

"Well, I don't know. If you're going to act like this, I don't think I want to be involved at all."

"Oh, come on, mom, don't be that way."

"So you do want me to help?"

Lorelai threw her napkin on the table, knowing that not only was she about to put her head in the lion's mouth, she was going to do it with a nice, juicy steak tied around her neck "Yes! Fine! Okay! Mom, would you please, please, help plan the grand opening of the Dragonfly Inn and make it special and classy in the way that only you know how to make it?" When she realized that she'd actually said the words, Lorelai opened her mouth to take them all back. But then she looked at her mother and remembered their conversation during the Great Emily Gilmore Platinum Cart Panic at the mall a few weeks earlier. Emily had been at such loose ends lately, and this was just the kind of project she lived for. She took a deep breath and decided to let the chips fall where they may. At the very least, they'd get a nice party out of it.

A small, triumphant smile played around Emily's lips. "Fine," she said calmly. "Well, obviously we don't have much time to waste. I'll start making notes over the weekend, and we should get together sometime early in the week to confer."

Lorelai stole a look at Rory, whose mouth was hanging open in shock. Lorelai shrugged, as if to say 'Don't look at me. The devil made me do it.'

*****************************

A short while later Lorelai and Rory were standing in Emily's driveway, still stunned at what had transpired.

"Oh. My. God."

"I know!"

"Oh. My. GOD!"

"I know! It was like the Vulcan mind meld or something. She totally played you, Mom."

"Oh, thanks a lot, Miss 'Oh, Grandma, I know you're so lonely and bored with Grandpa away so much and Mom has just the project for you to regain your sense of purpose and turn her into Frances Farmer at the same time!'" 

"I didn't say that! All I did was ask if Grandpa was still in New York."

"Exactly!" Lorelai swatted her daughter on the arm. "And why the_ hell _didn't you stop me? I think you're forgetting your role as the hyper-mature, precociously responsible kid who saves her mommy from her own self-destructive impulses."

"I tried, but I didn't know what to do. It was like watching that scene in _Scream_ where Rose McGowan goes into the garage during the party. You know the killer's going to be in there, and you want to warn her not to go in, but in the end there's nothing you can do."

"And I end up dismembered in an automatic garage door opener."

"Well . . . Maybe it won't be that bad."

"That's what they said about _Gigli_."

******************

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A/N: Hope you guys are still enjoying the story. Yeah, I know they just did the "Emily and Lorelai Bicker over Lorelai's Hair" bit in "Shrinking Lorelais," but I wanted to bring Luke up in front of Emily, and get in a mention of the water heater. (Remember the Chekov (or is it Ibsen?) saying about the gun onstage in the first act being fired by the third . . .)

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Next Up: Luke's back. Let the angst-y games begin!


	5. Grand Illusion

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Disclaimer: Blah blah blah Idon'townanyofitcakes.

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A/N: Again, thanks for all the feedback on the story. The only thing more fun than writing it has been getting response from people who actually read it. (I gotta tell ya, I wasn't sure anyone would.)

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SeaWench: I think your probably right about the over-hastiness of Lorelai's outburst. I was thinking of her as the tired, overwhelmed "Incredible S(hr)inking" Lorelai, so I probably rushed it. And could you tell me more about what you thought was out of character in the first part? Thanks!

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Bella Wilfer: I don't know if Jason had driven other cars in other episodes, but 'm pretty sure that in the tailgating scene in "Family Matter" he's driving a Mercedes. Thanks for keeping me on my toes, though!

Keep those cards and letters coming, gang!

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Lorelai pulled up to the diner late Monday morning, eager for a celebratory cup of coffee. She and Sookie had just finished what had to be the most optimistic meeting they'd ever had with Tom, their contractor. Things were progressing along nicely, he'd told them, and it looked like the Dragonfly would indeed open on schedule. She and Sukie got so excited they had jumped up and down and squealed and kissed Tom on each cheek, causing him to blush adorably. (Sukie even offered to name her next kid after him). For the first time in months Lorelai didn't feel like a failure. She could see her dream right in front of her, and for once she felt like she could allow herself to believe she'd get it. After the meeting Sukie had run home to be with Davy, but for Lorelai such good news called for coffee. And maybe pie. 

As Lorelai parked her Jeep on the street, she was pleased to see Luke's familiar green truck sitting in its usual spot. It had only been a little more than a week, but she had missed Luke more than she wanted to admit. Sure, she'd gone to the diner while he was away, but instead of sticking around like she usually would, she'd just get her order to go and take off. She'd never really noticed it before, but hanging out at the diner 24/7 actually lost some of its appeal when Luke wasn't part of the whole hanging-out-at-the-diner package. 

She found herself standing on the sidewalk outside the diner, just watching him for a minute through the window. The diner was nearly empty, and he was behind the counter, wiping it down as usual. He looked pretty much the same as he always did, maybe a little more tired. Somehow he'd been expecting him to look different. He'd just gone through a major life change, and she thought he should look more . . .single. But he just looked like Luke—rumpled, cranky, reliable Luke. She gave a guilty start as he caught her watching him and gave her a "the hell?" look.

"Were you just staring at me?" he demanded as she walked through the door.

Lorelai decided to play the whole thing off as a joke. "I'm sorry, I was just trying to figure out where I might know you from. You look awfully familiar, and that particular flannel pattern seems to ring a bell, but I'm having the darndest time placing your face." She snapped her fingers as she slid onto a stool. "Of course! You summer at the Cape, don't you? I met you at Kip and Muffy Worthington's house party in '54."

Luke rolled his eyes. "Well, at least it's good to know your sparkling sense of humor didn't diminish in my absence." He turned to retrieve the coffeepot, glad to have something to distract him for a minute. He'd thought about her the whole time he'd been gone, but had eventually decided to suck it up and let things go on as usual. But now that she was here, in front of him—in the flesh, so to speak—he was having trouble remembering _why_ things should go on as usual. And why had she been staring at him like that a minute ago? He took a calming breath and turned back to place her coffee on the counter in front of her.

Lorelai's eyes widened—she wasn't sure whether she was more surprised at the sudden appearance of the coffee or the noticeable lack of lecture accompanying said sudden appearance, but she decided to take it as a sign that the Java Gods were smiling on her. "Wow," she said, taking a sip, "no lectures, no rants. You must have had a good trip."

"It was fine," he replied, expansive as ever. 

"Uh-huh." She studied him for a minute, then placed her coffee cup on the counter. "Give me your hands," she said suddenly, holding her own hands out to him.

"Excuse me?

"Your hands." She gestured impatiently. "Let me see 'em."

Luke sighed and placed his hands on her upturned palms, wondering if this was some kind of bizarre Lorelai come-on. They both tried to ignore the warmth that flooded their bodies at the contact.

"Um-hum," Lorelai murmured as if she were an investigator on _CSI: Stars Hollow_. She turned his hands over, looking closely at his fingernails. "No obvious indications of moisturizer or a manicure." She let his hands go and leaned all the way over the counter, pushing his baseball cap back a few inches on his head. "Clearly no styling product in use." She sat back on her stool and studied his face. "I guess the scruff thing could go either way. Scruff is in right now."

"I don't even want to ask what you're doing, do I?"

She shrugged. "Just checking for telltale signs of burgeoning metrosexuality."

"I'm sorry, burgeoning _what_trosexuality?"

"You know, as in 'metrosexual.'" She saw that he still had no idea what she was talking about, and sighed at his cultural ignorance. "You've obviously never seen _Queer Eye._"

"Excuse me?!?"

"The metrosexual," she began as if lecturing to an anthropology class, "is a new species of urban male who—while in many cases still straight—has learned to embrace the finer points of personal grooming and the chic lifestyle. New York City is, by many accounts, the epicenter of metrosexual culture, and since you've just spent over a week there . . ."

"Yeah, well, I was in Brooklyn, not the West Village," he grumbled, nevertheless relieved that Lorelai hadn't been making a comment about his . . . masculinity. 

"Oh, look at you, trying to act all like you know what's hip," she giggled. "Besides, everyone knows SoHo is the hot place to be now. Or is it Tribeca?" She shrugged. "You know what? It changes so fast it's almost impossible to keep up." She took another sip of coffee. "So, when did you get back?"

"A couple of hours ago. And I wasn't here fifteen minutes before the vultures started circling."

'Oh, no . . ."

"Oh, yes. Patty and Babette were in here a little while ago." He shuddered. "They had . . . pictures."

"Pictures?" Lorelai was confused. "Pictures of what?" 

"Of . . . women."

Lorelai let out a loud gasp, and the two customers remaining in the diner turned toward her. "No way! They brought you nudie pictures? Dirty!" 

"Would you shush?" Luke blushed a deep red as he looked around to make sure the couple hadn't actually heard what Lorelai had said. "They were pictures of women they want to fix me up with, now that I am 'back on the open market.' Babette's words, not mine."

"Aw, you've got yourself a couple of matchmakers. That's so sweet. Hey, it's just like _Crossing Delancey_!" 

"I'm assuming that's some movie or t.v. show I've never seen and don't care about, and that, despite my absolute indifference, you're now going to tell me about it in excruciating detail anyway."

"It's a movie, and it's freakin' adorable." She drank some more coffee and straightened up on her stool, preparing to give the full recap. "Okay, see, Amy Irving plays this woman whose meddling-but-well-meaning grandmother hires the neighborhood yenta to find Amy a man. 'Cause Amy's, you know, _thirty-three_ and not married, and the world's about to come to an end." She rolled her eyes. "Anyway, the yenta tries to hook Amy up with the local pickle vendor. You can tell right away he's a great guy, but he's kind of gruff and not very fancy—works all day in the family business, wears lots of flannel . . ." She looked at Luke thoughtfully. "Actually, he reminds me a lot of you. Except for that whole hands-smelling-like-vinegar thing."

Luke rolled his eyes. "Yeah, mine just reek of burger grease. So, what happens with Amy and the Pickle Man?" he asked, intrigued in spite of himself.

"Well, see, at first Amy's not having it. She's all, 'Excuse me, I'm a single woman with amazing hair and a great job and a cool apartment and even if I did need a man—which, being a liberated career woman of the 80s I don't—it certainly wouldn't be a guy who needs a _matchmaker_ to get a girl.' Plus, she thinks she's in love with Pretentious Writer Guy, who of course turns out to be a giant, self-absorbed jerk in the end."

"As most pretentious writers usually do."

"Exactly! Anyway, it turns out that Pickle Man never really hired the yenta, he was just trying to humor her 'cause she'd been bugging him for years. But one day the yenta showed him Amy's picture and he said yes, he'd meet her. Seems he'd seen her around the neighborhood for a few years and had this crush on her but had never really talked to her or asked her out . . ." She trailed off as she looked into Luke's eyes. Suddenly the movie was hitting a little too close to home for both of them. "So they finally get together in the end and they dance in the bubbie's kitchen and I assume get married and have lots of cute, literate little New York babies and live happily ever after," she finished hurriedly. 

Luke looked down and wiped the counter mindlessly, trying to avoid Lorelai's gaze. This was the second story he'd heard in less than twenty-four hours about some guy who loved some girl from afar and took years to do anything about it. If he believed in those sorts of things, he's almost think that Somebody Up There Was Trying To Tell Him Something. Maybe they were—Amy Irving and the Pickle Man had a happy ending, and Liz and T. J. seemed to be heading for one as well. For now, though, he decided to change the subject. "You know," he said, trying to keep his voice normal, "you're just about the only person I know who can go from 50s Cape Cod to styling products to dirty pictures to Jewish matchmakers in the space of one five-minute conversation." 

"Purely a self-preservation tactic, my friend. It's a skill I developed over years of trying to dodge my mother's conversational land mines." Lorelai grinned, relieved that the tension of a moment earlier seemed to have broken. She had the uneasy feeling that something was changing between them. She couldn't really put her finger on it—it was vague, as if everything had suddenly been moved an inch to the left of where it usually was, or the molecules around them were shifting or something. Whatever it was, she couldn't shake the idea that it was leading them to some not-to-distant Point of No Return, and that scared her.

Trying to put those thoughts out of her head she glanced down at her watch, and gasped when she saw the time. "Speaking of my mother and potential bodily mutilation, what time do you have?" she asked, praying that her watch was simply being as idiosyncratic as every other mechanical device in her life.

Luke glanced at his own watch. "11:37."

"Oh, god, that's what I thought." she groaned. "I was supposed to meet her at the Dragonfly seven minutes ago. And seven minutes late is the equivalent of two hours late in Emily time." She laid her head on the counter. "Please shoot me now. Just one little bullet to the brain to put me out of my misery, I beg you." 

"She's coming to the inn?" Luke asked, a little confused.

"Yeah, we're supposed to—" she lifted her head up. "Oh, yeah, that's right—you probably haven't heard yet. Seems that Friday night I went into some kind of brief but intense psychotic episode and actually asked my mother to help plan the Dragonfly's grand opening. I think they're going to write the whole thing up in _Psychology Today_." She shook her head. "I still don't understand how it happened. Wait. Yes, I do. I blame Rory." She glared at Luke accusingly. "And you, too."

"Me?"

"Yes, you! Well, maybe not so much for the actual asking-her-to-help bit. But you weren't here for me to whine and rant after. You were a non-accessory after the fact."

"Well, sorry I wasn't there to help. But I'm back now, so you can come whine and rant at me any time." It came out more seriously than he'd meant, and they both caught it. They stared at each other for a brief second, then Luke suddenly noticed the counter needed wiping again and Lorelai became really intrigued by the handle on her coffee cup.

Lorelai was the first to break the silence. "Man, I _suck_ as a friend." 

Well, that wasn't what he'd been expecting. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, come on. You're going through this major . . . _thing_, and I just sit here crying about my mommy issues. I should be the one letting you rant and whine."

"I do not whine."

"But you do rant. You're known for your ranting throughout the state. They're thinking of building a statue of you in front of the state capitol and --"

"Okay, I rant. Point taken."

"Seriously, Luke, you're always there for me when I need you. Let me do something for you for once."

"You bailed me out of jail. That's plenty."

"But your bail was just a fraction of what I owe you, so really that's just like paying back part of a loan, not helping out a friend." She thought for a moment. "I've got it! You need a wallow!"

"Excuse me?" He knew it was the third time he'd said it since she'd sat down, but the conversation kept taking these weird turns.

"A wallow is the perfect antidote for failed relationships, lost jobs, bad report cards and parental sneak attacks. It's like movie night with self pity and mass quantities of junk food added," she explained. "."

"I don't do junk food," he said, stating the obvious.

"Okay, mass quantities of carrots, grilled chicken, whatever," she said dismissively. "C'mon, let me do this for you."

"Well . . ." He knew he should say no, but the idea of spending time with Lorelai alone in her house was just too . . . He sighed and rolled his eyes, as if giving up a great struggle. "Okay, fine. What the hell? I'll . . . wallow."

"Great! Tell you what, why don't you come over tomorrow night, I'll make us dinner . . ."  


Luke raised his eyebrows skeptically.

" . . ._buy_ us dinner," she continued, wrinkling her nose at him, "and pick up a couple of movies. I promise, this time only testosterone saturated, sports-themed, Luke-friendly films on the agenda. Whaddya say?"

"Well, since we both know I have no choice in the matter . . ." 

"Great! So, 7:00, my place for the Luke Danes Dude-Movie and Wallow Extravaganza." She gave him a bright smile. The smile faded a second later when she remembered that her mother was still waiting for her, most likely tapping her well-shod toe and drumming her impeccably manicured nails. But then again, she was probably driving Michel crazy while she waited. It was sort of a glass half-full/glass half-empty kind of situation. She sighed. 

"So, look, I figure I'm in for at least half an hour of 'For heaven's sake, Lorelai, you wear a watch. You should be able to arrive at your appointments punctually,'" she said, in a dead-on Emily interpretation. "To get through it with at least some of my sanity intact I'm gonna need the Super-Deluxe Trough-o-Coffee. To go."

Luke nodded his head sympathetically. "For once, I almost agree with you." He began filling one of the largest Styrofoam cups he had behind the counter.

"On second thought, better make it two. Maybe if I bring Emily a cup she'll drink it and the magical powers of your amazing coffee will make her forget my tardiness and what a disappointment my whole existence has been to her in general."

"I dunno. I'm good, but I'm not a miracle worker." He grinned to let her know he was joking and handed her the second cup.

She clutched both cups to her and smiled gratefully. "You are a god! So, I'll see you tomorrow night? Of course, that's after I see you when I come in for breakfast in the morning and lunch in the afternoon and—"

"I'll be there."

"Alrighty then!" She gave him one last smile then headed out door. As she walked to the Jeep she thought about the upcoming Wallow Night. She'd done the right thing in inviting him over, she was sure. He was her friend, and she was just trying to help him through a rough time. Then why did she feel like she'd practically asked him out? A wave of confusion swept over her, threatening to bring on the headache she always got when she let herself think too deeply about her relationship with Luke. And a headache was the last thing she needed when she was getting ready to face an irritable Emily-in-waiting.

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Up Next: Wallow Night!


	6. It Happened One Night

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Disclaimer: [_points to all the other disclaimers_]: Yeah. What they said.

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A/N: I'm still overwhelmed at all the nice responses. I'm not going to start holding chapters hostage in exchange for reviews or anything, but I am becoming a feedback junkie. Let me hear from ya!

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The next night, Lorelai stood in front of her mirror, trying desperately to figure out what to do with her hair before Luke came over. The bed behind her was strewn with all the clothes she'd tried on and discarded while trying to find what she deemed a "Luke-appropriate outfit." She took yet another look at the blue shirt and jeans she'd settled on and decided she looked fine. She'd had the shirt for a long time, but it still fit her nicely and really brought out the color in her eyes. She refused to think about the fact that it was the same shirt she'd worn that night she'd gone to help Luke choose a new paint color for the diner (God, that was a long time ago). The night they'd crouched behind the counter to hide from Taylor, Luke's arm around her waist and his breath warm on her face. The night he'd looked like he wanted to kiss her. She'd really thought she'd forgotten all about that night, but like everything else about her and Luke, it was just hiding in the shadows, ready to jump out at her—kind of like Michael Myers, except without all the screaming and bloodletting and stuff. Now Luke was about to show up at any minute, and that time in the diner was all she could think about. As with most of the troubling things in her life, she blamed her current freaked-out state on her mother.

By the time she'd gotten to the Dragonfly the day before, she'd been more than fifteen minutes late for their meeting. And, as she'd predicted, Emily had greeted her with almost the same exact speech Lorelai had performed for Luke a few minutes earlier (except that she'd said "on time" instead of "punctually.") Lorelai, operating according to plan, had offered her mother a cup of Luke's coffee as a peace offering. Emily had enjoyed the coffee, but the results of the whole peace-offering thing hadn't been what Lorelai had expected.

__

"Lorelai," Emily said, taking another appreciative sip, "this coffee is incredible. Where on earth did you get it?"

"Oh, just a place in town." She responded, not wanting to wave the red Luke flag in front of the charging bull that was her mother's nosiness.

"What place? Does Stars Hollow now have some kind of gourmet coffee house? Because the only coffee I ever hear you speak of is—" Her eyes narrowed as the pieces fell into place. "This is from that diner, isn't it? From Luke's?"

"Well . . ."

"So you were late for our appointment because you had to stop and flirt with your friend the diner man? I hope that you at least asked him to take a look at your water heater."

"I wasn't flirting, Mom, and I haven't asked him about the water heater yet. Luke's got a lot going on right now and I just wanted to stop in and check on him. I didn't go to flirt with him, and I didn't go to ask him for a favor. Just to check on him. Because that's what friends do. And that's what I am. His friend."

"Oh, please, Lorelai. If you expect me to believe the two of you are just friends when—"

"I swear, Mom, if you even think about uttering the words 'lap dance' or 'Porterhouse steak,' I'm out of here faster than Madonna can take up a new religion."

"Well, now you're making absolutely no sense. Why would I say such a thing?"

"Because those are the very phrases you used, like, a million years ago to describe the way Luke and I look at each other. Your little theory was cracked then, and it's still cracked. It's like the Liberty Bell of stupid theories."

"I'm sure I have no memory of saying anything of the sort. But I think the fact that you remember the exact wording of a supposedly 'cracked' comment I allegedly made years ago only shows that there was some truth to it." She looked at Lorelai for a moment. "And if you honestly think that the only thing between you and this man is friendship, then the only person you're lying to is yourself." For once, there was none of the usual Emily Gilmore judgment or criticism or suspicion in her voice. She was simply stating a fact.

Lorelai groaned and ran her hands through her hair in frustration. This was not a road she wanted to go down, especially since this particular road was dark and unpaved and had no street signs. "Fine. Fine. I'm lying to myself. I'm Cleo-freakin'- patra, sailing on my barge down the River Denial. Now can we please just talk about the opening?"

"Whatever you say." She'd looked at Lorelai again, but let the subject drop. "Now, I brought along some artists' renderings of potential ice sculptures . . ."

Lorelai looked in the mirror again and sighed. The truth was that Emily's words were always at the back of her mind, as were Sookie's and Patty's and those of everyone else who insisted on pointing out what she had always sworn wasn't there. She'd always blown those words off, too afraid to look at the truth in them too closely. Somehow, though, she was never able to completely let them go.

*******************

Meanwhile, Luke carried on an internal conversation with himself as he walked from the diner to Lorelai's house. He often had these discussions with himself when he was about to spend time with Lorelai, but tonight his Inner Voice was feeling particularly talkative. If she'd known about this habit, Lorelai would say that Luke was displaying definite Gollum-like tendencies. Luke merely considered it a healthy internal dialogue.

__

You know this is a bad idea, right?

What's a bad idea?

You. Her. Her house. Alone.

So? I've been to her house lots of times. It's no big deal.

Yeah, you've been over lots of times—to fix a porch rail or shovel the snow from her walk. When was the last time you spent any time_ over there? Just the two of you?_

Well . . . Last fall! When she wanted to have that stupid movie night. 

Exactly.

__

'Exactly' what?

C'mon, you remember what happened on the last 'movie night,' don't you?

Yeah. We ate. We watched Casablanca_. She annoyed me. I fell asleep on the couch. End of story. _

Riiiight.

What?

Oh, man, please. You could barely breathe all night. You finally had to pretend_ to go to sleep to keep from doing something stupid. And need I remind you what almost happened a few weeks ago when you got loaded and then went over to fix her window? If she hadn't gotten up to get those band-aids you wouldn't have been able to stop yourself._

Stop myself from what?

From grabbing her and kissing her and going, "I love you! I love you! I love you!"

I would not_ say it like that._

__

Oh, yeah? How would you say it, then, Mr. Smooth?

Well, I'd say . . . Oh, shut up.

That's what I thought.

Besides, I'm single now. If I wanted to make a move—which I am not in any way trying to hint that I'm even beginning to consider the prospect of starting to do—why shouldn't I?

How about A). You may be single but she's not, and B). She's way out of your league?

She's really out of my league?

Man, she's starting for the Yankees and you're warming the bench for the farm team. But, hey, if you're gonna make a move, make a move. At least it's better than punking out like you always do.

It really annoyed Luke that his Inner Voice was starting to sound more and more like Jess.

****************

As Luke climbed the front steps of the house, Lorelai threw open the front door to greet him. "I want you to know that against my good taste and better judgment I got one testosterone-dripping total guy movie and one compromise movie. I am begging you, though, to please say we can watch the compromise movie first."

"So that when it's over you can claim to be sleepy, thus getting out of watching the so-called 'guy' movie," he said as he entered the house. "Nice trick, but I saw it coming a mile away." He handed her a cup of coffee he'd brought with him from the diner.

"Luke, please? I promise we'll watch both of them. Really."

"Hey, listen. Whose Wallow Night is this, anyway?"

"It's yours," she said as if it were the most reasonable idea in the world, "but I don't see why that means we both have to suffer."

"You know, I think they had you in mind when they made that 'That's What Friends Are For' song." Lorelai just pouted, and Luke sighed. The damned pout was one of the many things about her he was never able to resist. "Fine. Whatever. We'll watch your movie first. Happy?" 

"Ecstatic. Like Hef on a double date with Britney and Pam Anderson. And look! We have dinner." She proudly gestured to the pizza boxes and take-out salad container laid out on the coffee table. 

"Aw, honey! You cooked!" They both managed to chuckle at the joke, but there was too much truth in it for to be really funny. Luke looked at Lorelai, and for the first time noticed she was wearing the shirt she'd had on that night in the diner with the paint samples. Lorelai noticed him noticing. They stood there for a very long moment, openly noticing each other for what was probably the first time in all the years they'd known each other. Finally, Lorelai turned to the coffee table and opened a pizza box.

"Let's eat. I need to get at least one slice of pizza in me before the movie starts, then I'll probably need to load up on the carbs again about fifteen minutes in to keep my blood sugar going."

Luke chuckled as he helped himself to some salad. "Only you would think of movie-watching as an event to train for."

"Absolutely," she grinned, settling onto the couch. "It's very serious business."

*********************

A short while later they were watching _Bull Durham_, Lorelai's idea of a "compromise movie" (Kevin Costner and Tim Robbins for her, baseball and Susan Sarandon for him). To the uninformed observer, they simply would have looked like two friends hanging out on the sofa watching a movie. They sat close to each other without actually making any contact, and they laughed and commented at all the right moments (Lorelai had magnanimously suspended some of the Movie Night rules in deference to Luke's need to wallow). Inside, though, they were both a mass of nerves and confusion. The smell of Lorelai's perfume was driving Luke crazy. The warmth that radiated from Luke's body was causing Lorelai's own temperature to rise. Lorelai practically had to sit on her hands to keep from reaching out and stroking the soft flannel that covered Luke's shoulders. Luke nearly bit a hole in his bottom lip to keep from placing it somewhere it had no business going. About the time Kevin was daring Tim to throw a baseball at his chest, Luke's arm brushed Lorelai's thigh as he reached for a bottle of water, and they both nearly jumped from the electricity that passed between them.

As Kevin went into his "long, slow, wet, passionate kisses" speech, Lorelai came to the belated conclusion that she'd picked the wrong movie to watch with Luke while her feelings were so jumbled and her hormones were, well, raging. God only knew what would happen when they got to the toenail-painting scene. She shifted in her seat a little. "Man, " she said, trying to shake the spell or pheromones or whatever it was that had come over her, "I used to have such a thing for Kevin Costner." She immediately saw that this was the wrong conversational gambit, especially since she'd just realized that Luke sort of reminded her of a darker-haired Kevin Costner.

"Really?" Luke had been dealing with his own jumbled feelings and raging hormones, and he was relived that she'd said something to distract him. He turned to look at her with mild curiosity.

"Oh, yeah." She started babbling in an effort to break the tension. "The year Rory was three we watched _Field of Dreams_ so many times that she started calling him 'Daddy.' I tried to tell her that he was only pretend and that he didn't really live on a farm but that he really lived in a three-million dollar mansion in Laurel Canyon and had limos and agents and probably got a hefty percentage of the gross box office, but you know how kids are. She even insisted on learning to play catch. Only she called it 'tatch.'"

"Cute. So, what brought this great love affair to an end?"  


"Uh, hello?!? Did you see _The Postman_?

"Can't say I did."

"Neither did anyone else." She leaned back against the couch and took a sip of coffee. The crisis had been momentarily averted and they had been pulled from the brink of whatever it was that was going on between them and back to safety. For some perverse, masochistic reason, though, Lorelai found herself wanting to dance back out to the edge again. She gave Luke a sidelong glance. "So, who's your celebrity lust object?"

Luke rolled his eyes. "I don't do celebrity crushes."

"Oh, come on. There has to be someone. Some hot starlet that you think about late at night . . . when you're all alone . . . feeling a little . . . you know."

Luke blushed, both at her words and at the seductive tone of her voice. "You finish that thought and I am walking out that door." He wondered what the hell she was doing.

To be honest, Lorelai wasn't sure what she was doing. She only knew that tonight some invisible force was drawing her to follow this thing through to the end, whatever that may be. "Just thought I'd ask," she giggled.

"Well, don't."

"I'd just like to know what arouses Luke Danes's carnal passions."

__

Okay, man. Here it is. Step up to the plate and hit the damned ball out of the park. You strike out now, and you'll probably never get another turn at bat. Luke took a deep breath, then turned to Lorelai and fixed her with a serious stare. "You really want to know?" His voice came out huskier than he'd meant it to. 

At the intensity in Luke's eyes, Lorelai felt a surge of nervous excitement. But she didn't falter as she met his gaze. "Yeah," she answered softly.

Just then the doorbell rang, taking them both out of the moment. Luke looked at Lorelai curiously. "You expecting someone?"

"Nope. Oooh! Maybe Steven Tyler finally read all my e-mails and I'm goin' on the road with Aerosmith!" She jumped off the couch and practically ran to the door, relieved at the interruption. Whatever it was she'd been doing back there scared her, and she felt like she couldn't breathe. She just needed time to think and to calm down and to clear her mind of all these thoughts she really shouldn't be having.

It wasn't Steven Tyler at the door. Or even Joe Perry. 

"Jason!"

"So, I'm sitting in the most tedious business dinner in the history of tedious business dinners," Jason said, walking through the door, "and all I can think about is that thing we did that night with the feather and the chocolate syrup-" He stopped as he saw Luke standing in the living room. "Oh."

The two men just stared at each other. Finally, from somewhere in Lorelai's dim past, all her mother's lessons on manners and good breeding took over. "Um, Luke, this is Jason Stiles. Jason, this is Luke Danes."

"Hey."

"How are ya?" Jason's eyes widened. "You're the diner guy."

"I am the diner guy."

Jason looked at Lorelai "I thought his name was Duke."

"Long story."

"And you," Luke said to Jason, "are the guy with the Mercedes with the tailgating habit."

"Oh, yeah." Jason cringed, and for a minute he seemed scared that Luke would hit him. "Look, I'm really sorry about that. It's just that I'm not used driving in towns where the maximum speed limit can be exceeded by geriatrics in walkers."

Luke shrugged. "No problem. It's a stupid number for a speed limit, anyway." He stood up. "Well, since I am, as you so aptly put it, 'the diner guy,' and that diner does open at 6AM, I should get going."

"Are you sure?" Lorelai asked, not knowing whether she wanted him to stay or not.

"Yep. Positive. I've got to get some sleep, and I'm sure you two have . . . stuff to do. 

Luke and Lorelai walked to the door. "So, look, I'll see you in the morning?" She couldn't quite meet his eyes. "I'm supposed to meet Rory at the diner for breakfast."

Luke couldn't quite meet her eyes, either. "Yeah, fine." He started down the steps. "I'll see you later."

Lorelai shut the front door and walked back into the living room. Jason had removed his jacket and was sitting on the couch where Luke had been moments earlier. The look on his face was not, to put it mildly, one of peace and contentment.

"Jason, you really should have called first."

"I tried, but I kept getting your voice mail. I figured your line was just busy so I took a chance and stopped by."

"Oh, yeah. I had the phone of the hook. No phone calls on Wallow Night."

"Huh? What's a wallow night?" He stood up and walked toward her. "Lorelai, am I missing something here? What was Eddie Vedder doing on your camped out on your couch on a Tuesday night, anyway? And why did you have to have the phone off the hook while he was here? Was this some kind of a date?"

"He is _not_ Eddie Vedder. He doesn't even _like_ Pearl Jam. He's more of a Springsteen—"

"You haven't answered my question." His eyes widened and he looked at her almost accusingly. "He's the reason you took off the other night, isn't he? You had to run off and be with the flannel man."

"Well, I told you I had to go help a friend." That sounded lame, even to her.

"Yeah, and I thought you meant Sookie, or that girl Lane, or some other friend who doesn't possess a Y-chromosome." He shook his head. "You take off at one in the morning—and in the middle of one of my best moves, I might add—to go 'help' this guy, you conveniently neglect to mention how much facial hair your friend in need has, and I'm supposed to believe there's nothing there?"

Lorelai suddenly became desperate at the thought of losing Jason—not only because she truly enjoyed being with him, but because if he were gone there would be nothing to keep her from facing this overpowering . . . _thing_ that had developed—or maybe it had just finally surfaced—between Luke and her. And the thought of facing whatever it was, of taking the risk of wrecking her nice, simple, goofy life and her safe, reliable friendship with Luke, was just too much for her to handle. 

"Jason, there's nothing going on between Luke and me. We're just friends." She placed a hand on his forearm and looked him in the eye, willing it to be the truth. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about going to help him earlier, but I didn't want you to get weirded out and I didn't want to embarrass him. And I'm sorry I overreacted just now. It's just that Luke's being going through some pretty major relationship problems, and I thought it would be hard for him to sit there listening to another couple go on about their sex life."

"And that's all there is to it?"

"Yes. Absolutely." She prayed to George Burns and Alanis Morissette and any other actor who had ever played God in the movies that if Jason would just believe her, she'd do everything she could to make it true.

He looked at her a long minute, then sighed. "I'm sorry. Of course, if you say that nothing's going on, then I believe you."

Lorelai threw her arms around his neck, "Goody," she breathed, feeling like she'd dodged some kind of emotional bullet. 

Jason pulled away a little and gave her a sly grin. "So . . . got any more of that chocolate syrup?"

**********************

**A/N:** Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know, I know. But you guys have trusted me this far . . . haven't you?

Also: Not sure I'm going to keep up the whole "Luke's Inner Voice" gimmick. It's always bothered me that Luke doesn't have a confidante on the show (except sometimes Lorelai), so we rarely get to hear what he's really thinking. This seemed like a good way to do it. 

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Up Next: Things fall apart. But the water heater might get fixed.


	7. The Awful Truth

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Disclaimer: What, me copyright-infringe?

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A/N: Thanks, as usual, for all the positive responses! I've been having so much fun doing this!

To all of those you who want Jason dead or otherwise disposed of (and you who you are), take heart. He's not going to be around much longer. I have to say, though, that I have mixed feelings about him. I've loved Chris Eigeman for years, and I think he and LG have wonderful chemistry. If Luke didn't exist, I could see them together. [Ducking the flames I know my fellow Java Junkies are sending my way]. But Luke is definitely the one for Lorelai—in this fic, and (AS-P willing) on the show.

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gluglug: Maybe it's the baseball thing, but yeah, I do kinda think SP looks like Kevin Costner—something in the eyes and in the lips. (Lorelai's bit on her KC fascination is basically from my life—except for the three-year-old-kid part—so SP's resemblance to a Bull Durham-era KC isn't a bad thing in my book.) I first really noticed it in "Dear Richard and Emily," when Luke's getting ready to go out on his date with Nicole. And yeah, I'd read that SP is an Eddie Vedder/Pearl Jam fan. But I dunno, Luke just _seems_ more like a Springsteen type to me.

And now back to our regularly scheduled program . . .

***************

The next morning, Lorelai headed to the diner to meet Rory. Her heart was pounding and her palms were sweating and all those other cheesy clichés, and she didn't want to go. But Rory, ungrateful offspring that she was, had again forgotten her role as her mother's emotional life raft and rudely neglected to answer her cell phone when Lorelai had tried to call and change their plans. It was dumb to meet at the diner instead of the house in the first place, but Lorelai had had another ridiculously early appointment scheduled at the Dragonfly, and Rory was just popping over for a couple of hours to eat breakfast with Lorelai and visit Lane. At the time meeting at the diner had seemed reasonable. Of course, any plan that involved pancakes and coffee first thing in the morning would always seem reasonable to the Lorelais. 

She kept telling herself that she had no reason to be nervous. After all, it's not like anything had happened. She and Luke had just hung out watching movies and eating, like friends. Like the friends they were. Nothing had happened; they hadn't even touched each other. Okay, except for that one time when Luke's arm had brushed her leg and she'd felt that shiver down her spine and that tingling in her . . . Her breath caught a little when she remembered what that millisecond of contact had done to her body. And then there was bizarre moment when she'd been temporarily possessed by a sex demon and she'd made that "carnal passions" comment and used her Sexy Lorelai voice and . . . She didn't even want to think about what might have happened if Jason hadn't shown up when he did. 

At the thought of Jason, she drew a deep sigh. Last night she'd truly believed she was doing the right thing by keeping Jason in her life. He really was a great guy—and a lot of fun—and things would be so simple if she could just be with him and be happy. But then he'd started kissing her and running his hands under the hem of her shirt, and she wasn't sure she could go through with it. Luckily, his cell phone rang before things could go too far, and he had to go back to his office to take care of some crisis with the British wool manufacturers. She knew the fact that she was relieved about not having to sleep with her own boyfriend was a big, blinking neon warning sign, but she couldn't deal with that right now. _I'll think about that tomorrow_, she told herself in her best Scarlett O'Hara voice.

As she walked into the diner, she decided that her first plan of attack would be to put the best face on things and pretend like nothing was wrong. Rory was already waiting for her, and she enveloped her in a hug. "Good morning, my beautiful, charming Yale-educated kid!" She sat down at the table, and noticed that Luke was standing behind the counter watching them. She avoided his gaze and turned her full attention to Rory. "So, tell me, daughter-of-mine, when you've got your fancy-schmancy Ivy League degree, will you be too cool to hang out and mock Gwyneth Paltrow with your poor, decrepit, state-school-educated mother?"

Rory patted her hand. "Aw, mom, don't worry. We'll always have _A View from the Top._ It's just that now I'll just have a better vocabulary with which to snark. And more sophisticated cultural references."

"Yeah, well, the minute you start throwing around words like 'ontological' and 'subjectivity' you're officially out of the Gilmore Junk Food Club and Pop Culture Mocking Society."

"Duly noted. I hereby swear to limit my snark to words of three syllables or less." They both giggled, and Lorelai felt a small wave of relief. She could do this. She could.

On the other side of the counter, Luke was getting angrier by the minute. He knew that he hadn't imagined what had happened last night. He was sure there had been something there, something in her eyes and in her voice, that hadn't been there before. But then That Guy showed up talking about . . .Oh, god. The thought of Lorelai doing stuff like that with That Guy made him feel sick to his stomach and made him want to put someone's head through a wall all at the same time. He would _not_ go there. And now here she was, acting as if nothing had happened. As he stood there watching her laughing and joking with Rory, he couldn't help thinking that she'd used him somehow. Well, that was a thought that, in his more resentful moments, he could acknowledge he was really familiar with. But before she'd only used him to fix stuff or to get free coffee or take part in one of her nutty schemes. This time she'd used his feelings. Used him. And that? Pissed him off. He walked over to their table, determined not to let her joke or pout or cute herself out of this one—no matter how good she looked in that stupid pink coat she was wearing. "What're you gonna have?" he asked brusquely.

Lorelai had hoped that Luke would automatically join her in an impromptu performance of Nothing Happened Between Us and We're Totally Fine, but the coldness in his voice told her he obviously hadn't read the script. She decided to try Plan B: Joking it Off. She patted Rory's hand. "It's okay, honey. Deep down, Luke's really glad to see you. He's just holding himself back for our safety. See, if he ever lets himself express positive emotions he's liable to go berserk and just tear the place apart from sheer happiness. Kinda like when you feed Gremlins after midnight."

The sharp, angry look Luke gave her nearly knocked the breath out of her. _Okay, joking about it definitely not a good plan. _ To her relief, Luke's expression softened when he turned to Rory. 

"So, how's school?" he asked. He may have been mad at Lorelai, but he'd wasn't about to take whatever was going on between them out on Rory. 

"Well, let's see. I'm living with the cast of_ The Real World: The PMS Season_, the editor of my school paper is a Ben Bradley wannabe with a Napoleon complex, and I can't get any studying done because this nutjob from Stars Hollow keeps calling me and going 'you're fired!'."

"Luke, would you please tell Miss I Don't Do Reality TV Now That I'm a Yalie that _The Apprentice_ is a brilliant discourse on the intersection of capitalism and celebrity culture at the turn of the millennium?" 

"Hey!" Rory cried in pretend outrage. "I thought we weren't mocking with the big words!"

"They're not my big words. I heard some guy use them on _Larry King Live_."

Luke looked at Lorelai, his face cold and impenetrable. "Pancakes and coffee?"

Lorelai was shaken. Luke hadn't looked at her like that since The Great Go to Hell/Back at Ya Crisis of 2002. "Um . . .Yeah. With whipped cream. On the pancakes, not on the coffee. Although, come to think of it, that could be pretty good. I'll have to try it sometime. But not now. So, yeah. Pancakes and coffee." She looked at Rory, who nodded. "For both of us."

Luke turned without a word and went to place their orders.

Rory gave him a sympathetic look as he walked off. "Boy, I guess this whole Nicole thing must still be pretty rough on him. He's grumpier than usual this morning."

"Yeah, I'm sure it is." She shrugged, trying to keep the topic from veering into dangerous territory. "Although, if you ask me, we're just talking about a difference in degrees of grumpiness. You know Luke—every morning's a bad morning."

"And what about you?

"Me?"

"Yeah, you. You're being weirder than normal this morning."

"I think I resent that remark."

"Mom . . ."

Lorelai decided it was time to move on to Plan C: Exaggerate and Evade. "Well, if you must know, my day has gotten off to a really crappy start. First, I turn on the _Today_ show, and no Matt Lauer. He's 'on assignment.' What does that even mean? 'On assignment?' Just say 'he didn't feel like coming in today' and be done with it."

"So, no Matt. That _is_ tragic."

"Hey! Mock not the woman who birthed you, babe. It's not nice."

"Sorry. Carry on."

"So, anyway, then I ran out of hot water halfway through my shower. Again."

"Again? I thought you were going to get Luke to take a look at that"

"Get Luke to take a look at what?" Luke had come back to the table and was setting their coffee front of them. 

"Mom says the hot water heater's acting up."

"Rory, I really don't think--"

"I'll take a look at it."

"Really, it's fine. I'll just—"

"I _said_ I'll take a look at it. Tonight okay?" Lorelai just nodded, and Luke walked away without another word.

Rory raised an eyebrow. "Okay, I think his grumpiness dial just went to eleven."

"Ya think?" Lorelai was too distracted to even pick up on the reference. She took a long sip of her coffee and tried not to think about what had really made Luke so cranky. She knew she tended to be a little self-absorbed, but all the choruses of "It's Not Always About You, Lorelai" she'd heard over the years couldn't erase the sneaking suspicion that this one really _was_ all about her. 

A few minutes later, Ceasar brought their breakfasts and they dug in. After all, even the Volkswagen-sized knot in her stomach couldn't keep Lorelai from enjoying Luke's pancakes. After they finished eating, Rory headed off to see Lane's new apartment and Lorelai sat finishing her coffee. Luke had disappeared soon after taking their orders, and she was pretty sure he was avoiding her. She knew if they didn't talk soon they'd be heading perilously close to Luke and Lorelai after Rory's Car Accident territory, and she couldn't go through that again. She got up and walked over to the counter. As if reading her thoughts, Ceasar nodded his head toward the storeroom. Lorelai took a deep breath and walked back. 

When she got to the storeroom door, Luke was busily opening boxes of paper products. "You're not supposed to be back here," he said without looking up. 

"Why, what have you got going on back here? Don't tell me—are you manufacturing French Fries of Mass Destruction? Wait, wait, I know! You've stolen the Colonel's secret recipe and you're gonna start selling KFC right here in the diner."

Luke didn't say anything. He just reached over and opened another box.

__

Okay, this whole keeping-things-normal thing isn't going to be as easy as I thought. "Look, I just wanted to . . . I just wanted to apologize for last night. I mean, about Jason showing up and all."

Luke just kept opening boxes, so Lorelai just kept talking. 

"I didn't know he was coming over."

"I didn't know he existed. At least, not from you."

"Yeah, I know. He's my dad's business partner, and we've been . . . seeing each other for a few months." She drew a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I should have told you."

Luke shrugged. "No law that says you have to tell me about who you date. No law that says we have to tell each other anything."

Stung by his remark, Lorelai just stood there for a minute. This was not how this was supposed to go down. The whole point was to keep Luke in her life, not to lose him completely. "I know we don't _have_ to, but we're friends . . . right?"

At the mention of that word, Luke started getting ticked all over again. "Yes, Lorelai, we are _friends_. And right now this _friend_ has a diner full of hungry people to feed and really needs to get back to work. Do you still want me to come by tonight?"

"Yeah . . . sure."

"Fine." Luke picked up a package of napkins and walked out of the storeroom without a backward glance.

*******************

Apparently, a long day's work at the diner was not exactly the recipe for improving Luke's mood. When he arrived at Lorelai's that night, Bert in hand, he barely returned her greeting as he walked through the door. Lorelai, still unsure of how to get things back to normal, followed him into the hall and did what came naturally when she was nervous or confused. She babbled.

"So, listen, I've been thinking, and we really need to get Bert a girlfriend. I mean, if you two keep hanging around together like this people are gonna start talking. Seriously, look what happened to that other Bert and Ernie. Or Matt and Ben. Not that there's anything wrong with that, of course. It's just that I've always thought Bert—your Bert, I mean—gives off a definite 'I dig chicks' vibe."

Luke just kept fiddling with the water heater.

"Anyway, I know this cute little sewing box we could hook him up with. Her name is Susie. Nice lid, full of thread. The rumor is that she used to have something going with the silverware drawer, but I don't think it was anything serious. Oh, but Susie and Bert? Would be such a great couple. They could get married and have lots of cute little useful babies. 

Luke stood up, still ignoring her monologue. "Okay, that's done. Need anything else?"

"That's it? Already?"

"Yep. Thermostat just needed adjusting."

"Oh, good. At least it wasn't . . ." She trailed off. For what she was sure was the first time in her life, she had run out of inane babble.

"So, we're done here." It was a statement, not a question. Luke picked up Bert and headed back toward the front door.

"Yeah, I guess . . . I mean . . . No, wait." She stopped him just as he reached for the doorknob. "Luke, look. Are you still mad about last night?" 

"Well, since I was never mad about last night, it would be impossible for me to_ still_ be mad about last night. I'm fine."

"Yeah, well, you could've fooled me. I mean, you've said fewer words to me in the last twenty-four hours than Arnold did in the first Conan movie. Okay, so that's nothing unusual for you. But you didn't even smirk when I talked about getting Bert a girl, and you always at least smirk at my little jokes." She lifted her hands helplessly. "Look, if you're mad about something, please just tell me so we can get back to normal."

All the anger and frustration and hurt feelings Luke had pent up for years came rushing to the surface. He set Bert down on the floor with a thud, and gave Lorelai a sarcastic smile. "You know what? Maybe things aren't normal, and maybe I am a little pissed off. But don't you worry about it one little bit. I'm sure that by tomorrow I'll be completely back to normal. I'll pour your coffee and bitch about your eating habits and smirk at your jokes and fix your plumbing and watch you go through Max, and Alex, and this new guy, and oh, what the hell, one more round of Christopher and Lorelai: The Extended Dance Mix, and I'll just stand behind that damned counter for _another_ ten years waiting for you to see . . ." Luke seemed to have run out of rant, and he trailed off. 

Lorelai was stunned, and not just because that was the most she'd ever heard him say in one breath. "See what?"

Luke opened his mouth as if to resume his rant, but he just shrugged. _Got nothing to lose now. Might as well go all the way. _"Me," he said simply.

Lorelai began to panic. This was The Talk, the conversation she'd been running away from for years. Now that it was here, she wasn't quite sure what to do. She decided to go with Exaggerate and Evade Level 5. "What are you talking about? Of course I see you. You're standing right in front of me. Tall guy. Flannel shirt. Baseball cap, always worn backward." 

Luke wasn't about to be put off. He knew her tactics way too well, and he'd come too far to give in to them now. "Oh, come on. You've never seen what's right in front of you. When you look at me you see a coffeepot, and a toolbox, and occasionally a shoulder to cry on, but you don't see me. You never have. And you know what? It's getting really old, and I'm over it."

Lorelai was stung by the resentment in his voice. He'd never talked to her like that before, even during that horrible summer. "Luke, that's not true. I don't just see all that stuff. I see you."

"Oh, you do?" He took a step toward her.

"Yeah, of course I do," she replied. But it came out barely above a whisper

"You sure about that?" 

Luke continued closing the distance between them. There was an intensity in his eyes and in his voice that frightened her, even as it sent an involuntary thrill through her. But before she could think of what to say or do next, Luke took her face in both of his hands and pulled her to him in a demanding, passionate kiss. She just stood there, frozen. A second later, Luke broke away. He looked into her shocked eyes and a sad half-smile crossed his face. 

"That's what I thought." He picked up Bert and walked out the door.

*********************

Lorelai stood rooted to the spot where Luke had kissed her for what seemed like an eternity. A million thoughts were racing through her head, which was nothing new for her. What was unusual was that for the first time all of these thoughts were consciously about Luke, and she had no clue what to do about them.

The kiss had taken her by complete surprise. Well, okay, maybe it wasn't so much the fact that he had kissed her that had shocked her—if she were being really honest with herself, she knew that it had probably been coming for a while. No, what had almost literally knocked her off her feet was the _way_ he had kissed her. She could still feel his mouth on hers. It was if he knew exactly how to stimulate every nerve ending in her lips. He'd kissed her as if he knew every part of her mouth intimately. No one had ever kissed her like that. Not Max or Alex, and certainly not Jason. Even Christopher had never kissed her as if it was the one thing in the universe he'd been created to do. No, that had been Luke.

Luke! Luke? Luke. Luke, who'd been one of her best friends and a surrogate dad to Rory for forever. Luke, who kept her fed and coffee'd and fixed her broken shoe at the dance marathon. Luke, who all of a sudden was saying he _had_ been harboring some sort of feelings for her for . . .well, for years, if she'd understood what he'd been telling her. Feelings he'd never told her about, even when he had watched her get her hopes up and then fail in relationship after relationship. Even when he sat and watched her get upset over the thought that she'd never have 'it,' the whole package. Even when he had been with Rachel, or Nicole. The shock Lorelai had been feeling slowly gave way to anger, and she began pacing around the living room as her anger continued to build. He'd been sitting there feeling all of this stuff, but instead of telling her about it or doing anything about it he'd just let her stay lonely and confused, feeling like she'd never find real love and happiness. And now _he_ was mad at _her_? Suddenly, she stopped pacing and grabbed her keys and jacket from the couch where she'd dropped them on hours earlier. 

" 'Don't see you' my ass," she muttered aloud as she walked out the door.

*********************

Luke sat at a table in the darkened diner, his head resting in his hands. He'd meant to do what he always did at moments of extreme emotional stress—go up to the apartment and have a beer and a nice, long brood. Somehow, though, the adrenaline that had begun to surge during his confrontation with Lorelai had deserted him as soon as he walked into the diner. He'd sunk into the nearest chair, flashes of the past half-hour running in his mind. He kept seeing Lorelai's startled blue eyes when he all but told her he'd been in love with her for a decade. He remembered the way his heart pounded as he had approached her. He thought about the way her lips had felt under his. Oh man, those lips! He'd fought the urge to kiss those lips for years, but now that he had actually done it he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to stop wanting to do it again. 

__

Well, big guy, you made your move. What now? That was the $64,000 question—or the million-dollar question on that game show with that guy from that morning program. He wondered what was going through Lorelai's mind at that moment. Did she hate him? Was she disgusted? Was she talking to Sookie—or, God forbid, Rory—at this very minute, laughing about how big, dumb Luke had tried to put the moves on her? He tried to fight the small hope that he'd seen some sort of flicker of, well, _something_ behind the surprise in her eyes, and that maybe—maybe—she had been about to respond to the kiss when he pulled away.

When Lorelai burst into the diner a few minutes later, Luke realized the real reason he hadn't gone upstairs was because—as usual—he'd been waiting for her. Hell, he hadn't even locked the door behind him.

"You!" she yelled as she came through the door. "You are a hit and run kisser. No, wait, you're a drive-by kisser. Yeah, that's it. You're Luke N the Hood. Now all you need is a record deal with Dr. Dre and a video—"

"Lorelai, I don't want to do this right now."

" 'I don't want to do this right now,'" she said, mimicking his tone. "Oh, so you get to come into my house, yell at me about how you've been waiting ten years for me to—what was it you said? to 'see you?'—_kiss me_, and walk out without a word, but I'm not supposed to have a reaction?

"Are you saying you _do_ have a reaction?"

"Well, of course I have a reaction!" She faltered. "I just don't know what it is."

"There's a shock."

"Oh, Luke, come on. Be fair. I just found out less than an hour ago that for practically the entire run of _Friends_ one of _my_ best friends has supposedly had all these feelings for me that I didn't know anything about. I need some time to process this."

"How could you not know? Everybody in this whole stupid town knows it. Hell, I think Patty and Babette even have a pool going. You can't tell me you couldn't see it too."

He was right, but at the moment Lorelai wasn't about being fair. "Okay, first of all, everyone in this town? Is nuts. You know that. They were gonna change the signs at the town limits to say 'Welcome to Cuckoo's Nest,' but Taylor thought that would scare away the tourists." She shifted into her last and most desperate option when dealing with anything that confused or frightened her—Dig Up Stuff to Get Mad About. "And riddle me this, Batman. When exactly was I supposed to pick up on all these feelings you supposedly have for me? Hmmm, lemme think. Was it when you were living with Rachel? Ooh, ooh! Wait, I know! Alex, I'll take 'When Luke Went Off and Got Married on a Cruise Ship' for 200!"

Luke looked as if Lorelai had physically slapped him, but she was on a roll. At the thought of Luke marrying Nicole, something broke inside her, and she began to uncover long-buried pain she didn't even know she'd been feeling. "Did you ever think that it might have hurt me to realize that you'd run out and marry some woman you'd only known for, like, five minutes—some woman you weren't even really in love with—but that you'd never even take me seriously enough to ask me out on a date? But you know what? Why should you? 'Oh, that's just Lorelai. She's flaky and scattered and, to tell ya the truth, just a little bit trampy. I mean, she did get knocked up at sixteen, and then there's that poor schmuck she practically left at the altar a couple of years ago. Oh, yeah, she's lots of fun and she's nice to look at, but stay away from her if you want anything substantial.'"

There were real tears in Lorelai's eyes now. Luke opened his mouth as if to say something, but she just shook her head and held up her hand to stop him. "The thing is, Luke, you never really wanted me. Not really. " She was speaking more calmly now, and the anger in her voice had been replaced by a deeper, older sadness that was only partly about Luke. "I mean, yeah, we're great friends, and we flirt, and maybe you even get a little jealous of they guys I go out with." She shook her head. "But the reason you didn't do anything all these years isn't because you were afraid of rejection, or because I didn't 'see' you. It's because you've spent ten years watching Tropical Storm Lorelai wreak havoc on every male she comes across, and your self-preservation instincts are just too strong for you to ever want to put yourself in the path of the storm. And who can blame you? You're much better off this way." 

As she turned to walk out of the diner, Luke stood up and put a hand on her arm to stop her. "Lorelai, I—"

She shrugged his hand off, her face still tuned away from him. "I'm gonna go. I'll see ya later."

***************

**A/N:** Aw, jeez, it's always two steps forward, three steps back with those two crazy kids, isn't it? But take heart, little campers. It's always angstiest just before the (eventual—I'm getting there!) happy ending.

I have to say that this chapter turned out to be a bit longer than I'd intended. I'd thought about cutting it off at the kiss, but I didn't want to break the emotional momentum of the whole confrontation. To me, the kiss is only part of what's going on with these two. 

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Up Next: Thirteen (okay, maybe not _thirteen) _conversations about one thing.


	8. Imitation of Life

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Disclaimer: Disclaimez-vous!

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A/N: Thanks again to everyone who's given feedback and encouragement. If you've been reading and enjoying but not reviewing (thought I couldn't see ya, huh?), please feel free to drop a line. We likes the lovely feeback!

Also, I have no idea how to go about getting a divorce in Connecticut—or any other state, for that matter. Please forgive me for the inevitable vagueness and/or inaccuracies of that part of the story.

And we're back in 5, 4, 3, 2 . . .

*******************

"Wait, wait. You said _what_?"

It was three days after Luke and Lorelai's big confrontation—or, as Lorelai had come to think of it, Meltdown II: Disaster in the Diner. Lorelai had spent two days holed up in her house, claiming to have the stomach flu. She'd passed those days sitting on the couch in her Barbie pajamas, alternating between doing paperwork for the inn (even the need for a wallow of epic proportions couldn't change the fact that the opening was just a few weeks away) and watching every John Hughes film she and Rory owned. She'd spoken to Rory briefly—just long enough to give her an outline of what happened, without too many of the details. Rory had wanted to come home, but she was in the middle two major projects and Lorelai had refused to let her neglect her schoolwork just to play nursemaid to her emotionally crippled mother, especially with the end of the semester coming in just a few weeks. Luckily, Lorelai didn't have to face Friday night dinners in her current emotional state. Emily had decided that all dinners should be postponed until after the Dragonfly opening so that Lorelai could devote all her attention to the inn. Lorelai was convinced this just gave Emily more time to come up with increasingly intricate ways to torture her about the opening, but she was grateful for the temporary Hartford moratorium.

On the third day of Lorelai's self-imposed exile from the world, Sookie, who had eventually figured out that Lorelai wasn't sick, but was wallowing about Something Big, came by with a huge chocolate cake and the _Mary Tyler Moore Show_ DVD box set (she never understood why Lorelai always got to be Mary and she always had to be Rhoda.) After much probing and wheedling on Sookie's part, Lorelai told her the whole story of the kiss and her sort-of-fight with Luke. Sookie just sat at the kitchen table and listened, silent but completely wide-eyed, until Lorelai told her about her "Tropical Storm Lorelai" comment. 

"But why would you say something like that to him?"

Lorelai sighed. "Oh, I don't know, maybe it's because it's the truth?"

"No, it's not!"

"C'mon, Sook, you know my track record as well as anyone. And so does Luke. He's sat there for years watching me screw up relationship after relationship, and he's too smart—and to environmentally conscious—to venture onto an emotional toxic waste dump."

"Oh, now you're just being way too hard on yourself."

"Oh, yeah? Well, let's take a poll. Let's see . . . Who in this room got pregnant before she finished high school, refused to marry her babydaddy, and took off without a word to her parents?" She raised her hand and looked around the kitchen, as if looking out over a crowd, "That's what I thought. Now. Anyone else in the audience sleep with said babydaddy—on more than one occasion—years later and keep hoping that he'd help you make a family? How many of you kept sleeping and hoping, up to—and, okay, even after—the moment you'd found out the babydaddy had gotten another girlfriend pregnant?" She kept her hand up and looked around again. "Well, I seem to be the only one in that category."

"Okay, first, stop saying 'babydaddy.' Second, it's not like that was all your fault--"

"Wait, wait. I'm not finished with my little survey. Alrighty, now, anyone in this room get engaged on a whim, then desert your fiancé the night before your wedding, thus forcing him to move three thousand miles away from you?" She paused, pretending to count hands. "Ah-ha! But how many of you _kissed_ the ex-fiancee months after trampling his heart, shaking him up so badly he had to impose a basketball-player-height restraining order on you?"

"A what?"

"Never mind. Suffice it to say that I ran Max off the way I ran Christopher off, and Alex, and the way I'm due to run Jason off any second. It's like I'm genetically incapable of keeping a real, grown-up relationship together. I end up hurting or running away from a guy who cares about me, and I can't do that to Luke. I won't."

"Yeah, but sweetie, things could be different with Luke. He's nuts about you."

"Okay, let's just assume for one second, for the sake of argument, that he is 'nuts' about me. And let's assume that we do, somehow, by the grace of Nora Ephron, get together. You know what would happen as well as I do. Sooner or later—and my money's on sooner—I'd freak out and run, I'd hurt him, he'd close up like some flannel-covered oyster, and then that would be it. No more Luke, no more friendship, no more diner, no more coffee."

"You do not know that that could happen. You two could get together and it could be the most amazing thing ever. But you won't know unless you try."

"I'm sorry, do I need to run through my little poll again? 'Cause I think I just proved—"

"Okay, you know what? This is ridiculous." Sookie rarely spoke to Lorelai so strongly, but she was tired of watching her best friend tear herself down and walk away from what could make her truly happy. "For years, I've been listening to you go on and on about how horrible you are with men and how you suck at relationships. Well, as far as I can see, you've only done two things that could even remotely be considered mistakes. Now, all the crap with Christopher? You were sixteen. Stuff happened. And you had the guts to stand up to him and to your family and to do what you felt was right for you and for Rory. And from where I sit, you've managed to make a pretty good life for the both of you. Plus, let us not forget that _he_ was the irresponsible ass who stayed away for sixteen years and then knocked up some other woman." Lorelai couldn't help smiling a little in gratitude at Sookie's wholehearted defense of her actions. "And as for Max, the only real mistake you could have made would have been marrying him when you knew you didn't really love him enough. You did the right thing there. The rest of it is just the trial and error junk that happens to every adult with a reasonably active dating life." Sookie took a deep breath, unaccustomed to delivering such long lectures. "So, that's two real mistakes in, what, twenty years of relationship experience? That's if you can even call them mistakes, which I don't. That's a pretty damned good track record to me."

Lorelai stared at Sookie, mulling over what she'd just said. No one had ever put it quite like that before. She'd spent so many years hearing her mother's disappointed voice in her head (okay, with her own, even louder disappointed voice drowning Emily's out) that she'd never even given herself a chance to enjoy a relationship before heading for the hills. If what Sookie was saying was true, maybe she wasn't so completely screwed up after all. Still . . ."I dunno, Sook. I mean, I see what you're saying, but I just don't know if I can take that chance. Not with Luke. It's just too scary."

"That's because he really means something to you. He's important to you. And you know how I know for sure?"  
  
"How?"

"Because the whole time we've been sitting here talking, you've gone on and on about how Luke feels and whether or not he wants you. But you've never once said that you don't want him." As if to punctuate her point, she slid her chair back and walked over to the counter to cut two pieces of the chocolate cake.

Lorelai realized with a start that Sookie was right. Somehow, The Question of Luke and Lorelai had gone from a question of whether there was anything between them at all to a question of whether she had feelings for him to a question of whether _he_ wanted _her_. Of course, it figured that she'd decide she wanted Luke just the very moment that possibility of something happening between them disappeared. She thought that was probably a good example of irony, but she wasn't sure. She made a mental note to ask Rory the next time she talked to her. "Yeah, well, you know what Bret Michaels and the boys say. 'Don't know what you've got 'til it's gone.'"

"That wasn't Poison. It was Cinderella."

"See?" Lorelai slapped her hand on the table. "This whole thing's got me so rattled I've got my cheesy band references all mixed up."

Sookie set a large wedge of cake in front of Lorelai, then sat down and looked at her seriously. "So, what are you gonna do?"

"Well, first I'm going to go back and watch all my _I Love the 80s_ and _I Love the 80s Strikes Back_ tapes so that whole embarrassing pop-culture-reference-mix-up thing doesn't happen again."

"Lorelai . . ."

Lorelai sighed. "I don't know. I don't think there's anything _to_ do. We both said a lot of stuff and I don't see any way around it."

"Why don't you just talk to him?"

"Oh, yeah. And say what? 'Gee, Luke, I know I've hurt you a lot over the past ten years, and I know that I am to relationships what the German Luftwaffe was to London in 1940, but whaddya say? Wanna give it a shot? Oooh, baby, that'll make him swoon."

"Just talk to him. Tell him what's in your heart. You want him. He wants you—"

"You don't know that."

"Oh, you're right. The fact that he practically _told_ you he wants you and then kissed you meant absolutely nothing."

It was true. _Boy_, had he kissed her. Three days later and she could still feel his lips on hers. "Well, obviously it didn't mean too much," she said, remembering the rest of their fight, "since he's never done anything about it."

"It just means that he's scared, just like you're scared. But I'm telling you, if you guys would just open up to each other you'd be amazed at how quickly everything would work out."

Lorelai wanted to badly to believe that Sookie was right, and that she could just go over and see Luke and talk to him and that they could repair their friendship. Maybe they could even build something more on top of it. "You really think so?"

Sookie gave her an encouraging smile. "Absolutely."

Lorelai started to smile back, but with a guilty start she remembered the relationship she was already in. "Well, anyway, even if I wanted to do something, I couldn't until I dealt with Jason."

"Ooh, yeah," Sukie winced. "What are you going to do there?"

"Well, Luke or no Luke, I have to end it. It's going to be hard. I mean, just a few days ago I practically swore to him that nothing was going on with Luke. But I have to be honest with him—he deserves that, at least." She grimaced. "Aw, man, and he just gave me the key to his place, too."

Sookie made a sympathetic face. "Oh, the poor thing. But, hey, it's better that you're honest with him now, before things get _really_ serious."

"You're right. I have to do this before I can go to Luke and. . ." A surge of nervous excitement ran through her. "Hey, Sook?"

"Yeah?"

"Am I really gonna do this?"

Sookie beamed at her. "Yeah."

Lorelai smiled back. "Yeah."

**********************

Luke stood behind the counter of the diner, staring off into space. He had absolutely nothing to do. It was the middle of what Kirk had once called "your classic mid-morning lull," a period Kirk had gone on to compare to "a sweet death." In fact, the diner _was_ pretty dead at the moment. Lane was in the back straightening up the storeroom because there was nothing else for her to do. Luke had thought of sending her home, but he knew that she could use the hours now that she was living in her new apartment. The only customer in the place was Kirk, who was sitting at the end of the counter trying to program one of those little electronic organizer things that Luke thought were a complete waste of time and money. Why would anyone want to let some little electronic device run their lives? Especially since in the time it took to program one of the stupid things you could write all of your appointments out on a calendar and all your phone numbers in an address book and be done with it. At the moment, Kirk didn't seem to be able to do much more than make the thing beep and chirp continuously. It was getting really annoying, and if it didn't stop soon, Luke was going take the organizer and shove it some place where it would never be of any use to Kirk or anyone else.

Ordinarily, during a lull like this, Luke would find a way to occupy himself. He'd place a few orders, go through the most recent restaurant supply catalogues (ultimately rejecting all the trendy new equipment as "useless" and "another way to get unsuspecting small business owners to spend money they don't have on crap they don't need") or go over the diner's books. But ever since the thing with Lorelai, it seemed he was only capable of doing the bare minimum needed to keep the place open. If he hadn't just taken a week off, he would have closed up for a few days and gone up to the cabin. But he knew Taylor would have a fit if he closed twice in a two week period, and at this point he didn't even have the energy for a good knock-down, drag-out Taylor fight. 

He hadn't seen Lorelai since she'd walked out of the diner after their . . . well, whatever it was. That had been almost a week ago. Babette had said something about Lorelai being sick, but he knew she was just avoiding him. He still couldn't believe the way things had turned out. Of all the different scenarios he'd imagined for how Lorelai would react to knowing how he felt about her—and he'd imagined a _lot_ of them—he never in million years would have thought she'd get _mad_ at him. And what was all that craziness about him never really wanting her? She couldn't really believe that, could she? Yeah, he'd seen all the stuff she'd gone through with guys over the years. But he knew that wasn't all her fault—she'd just gotten involved with idiots who weren't right for her. He knew about her self-proclaimed tendency to freak out and run away, but he'd always told himself that when she found the right guy, she wouldn't run. She'd stay put and be happy. Of course, He'd always believed that _he_ would be that 'right guy' who would make her happy and make her want to stay. Make all her dreams come true. _Huh. Some dream man you are. You can't even get up the guts to go talk to her._

It wasn't like he hadn't _tried_ to talk to her. Every night he'd pick up the phone to call her, then hang it up again when he realized he had no clue what to say to her. Once he'd gotten as far as dialing the first three digits of her phone number before slamming the phone back down. Then there was the night he'd walked over to her house, determined to have it out with her. But when he'd gotten a block away, he'd frozen. He'd just stood there, staring at the light in her bedroom window until he realized somebody might see him and call him in for stalking. He'd always thought he'd be the last guy to be a cliché from one of those stupid romantic movies, but here he was, Mr. Romantic Movie Cliché, and he hated it. He hated all of it. He hated knowing he'd been a cowardly jerk for so long. He hated not seeing her, not being able to talk to her. He hated feeling like he wasn't good enough for her. He hated all those guys who'd made her feel like she'd never be good enough for anyone. The only thing he didn't hate in this whole mess—the only person—was Lorelai. He'd tried to hate her before, the summer after Jess and Rory's accident, but there was no way. He could be annoyed by her, and he could be hurt by her, but he could never hate her. He sighed, and picked up his dishrag and began wiping down the counter. The wiping, the counter, the diner, they were his territory. They were things he could control.

The bell at the diner door jingled, and his heart skipped momentarily, just as it had done every time that door had opened in the past week. Every time he heard someone come through that door, he felt a split-second of hope that it would be Lorelai. But it never was. It would be Kirk, or Patty, or Lane or Ceasar coming in for a shift, but it wouldn't be her. It wasn't her this time, either.

"Hey, Luke."

Luke was surprised to see Nicole standing in the middle of the diner, but he was even more surprised to realize that he'd barely thought about her since the last time he'd seen her in Litchfield. _Yeah, that marriage is really burned in your memory, isn't it, buddy?_

"Nicole. Uh, what're you doing here?"

She chuckled. It was a small, nervous sound. "Boy, you always did cut right to the chase, didn't you?"

"No, I just mean that . . .It's just . . .I'm just surprised to see you here, that's all."

Nicole walked up to the counter. "Well, I had some things to finish up with Taylor, and I figured that since I was here I'd give these to you in person." She reached into her briefcase, pulled out some vaguely official-looking papers, and handed them too him.

Luke figured he knew what the papers were, and a brief glance at the wording on the top page told him he was right. "Wow. That was fast."

"Yeah, well, I pulled some strings. Everything should be finalized in a couple of months. I mean, I didn't think either one of us really wanted to prolong the matter. . ." She looked up at him, as if waiting for confirmation.

"Oh. Yeah, you're right. No use dragging things out."

"Right." She looked at her watch. "Well, I'd better get over to Taylor's." She gazed at him for a long, thoughtful moment. "Take care, Luke."

"Yeah, you too. See ya, Nicole."

Nicole walked to the door, then turned around again. "Luke?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm really sorry. About everything."

Luke looked at her. In spite of everything, she hadn't deserved the way he'd acted. The whole disaster had been at least as much his fault as hers. Probably more. "I'm sorry, too. Really." He meant it.

Nicole nodded and then walked out the door. Luke sighed and took another glance at the papers in his hand. There they were, his official membership papers in the Almost-Divorced Loser's Club. Those papers were proof that, no matter how many half-assed attempts he might make at putting together some kind of a life, he was never going to be anything but Luke, the Loner Who Lives Above the Diner. He sighed again and shoved the papers in the back pocket of his jeans. 

"Lane!"

Lane came out to the counter. "What's up?"

"I'm goin' upstairs for a while. I do not want to be disturbed under any circumstances. If you want to keep your job, you will not knock on that door unless somebody's bleeding from a sucking chest wound or the place is burning down around your ears." He headed toward the stairs, then paused. "You know what? Even then, you'd better only knock if someone's death is immanent. Preferably mine." He stomped upstairs, not seeing the startled look on Lane's face.

***********************

Lorelai walked toward the diner, her heart pounding out a drum solo John Bonham and Keith Moon both would have been proud of. It had taken almost a week, but she had her emotional ducks in a row and was ready to try to begin a . . . well, to begin _something_ with Luke. She'd already taken the first step—ending things with Jason. Actually, the break-up hadn't gone nearly as badly as she'd thought it might. Jason had seemed hurt and disappointed, but she could also pick up just the faintest hint of relief in his eyes. She figured that, key or no key, he had really been no more ready to commit to her than she 'd been to commit to him. When he'd dropped her off the night of the break-up, he'd left her with a parting shot that was completely a part of what Emily would call his "Jason-ness." "_I just want it on the record that I would have fought for you_," he'd said with a self-deprecating smile. "_But the man wears _flannel."

She'd needed a few days after that to clear her head, but now here she was, on her way to open herself up to something that could potentially change her life. She was so certain about what she was doing that she surprised herself. Ordinarily, she made it a practice of running from the big, scary emotional situations, but this time it was different. Maybe it was that she was finally, after nearly thirty-six years of junk food and pop culture addictions and hit-and-run relationships, beginning to grow up. Maybe it was because this time there was so much at stake. Whatever the reason, for the first time she was ready to face a big, scary emotional situation head-on and try to make something good for herself.

She was so intent on her thoughts that she didn't see Nicole until she had practically run over her. 

"Oh, jeez, I—" She stopped as she got a good look at the victim of her clumsiness. At the sight of Nicole standing there in front of Luke's diner as if she didn't have a care in the world, all Lorelai's own fears and desires were replaced by a surge of protectiveness for her best friend and utter contempt for the woman who'd hurt him. 

"Oh, my god. Nicole. What are you doing here?" '_Here,' as in standing in front of the establishment of the man whose heart you ripped out and stomped all over with your pointy little lawyer shoes._

Nicole gave the same nervous chuckle she'd given Luke a few minutes earlier. "That seems to be the question of the day."

"Sorry. I'm just surprised to see you here." _Mainly because I didn't think you'd have the nerve to show your face here after what you did, you two-timing little skank._

"Well, I had to see Taylor, and Luke and I had some . . . business to take care of."

"Oh. Right." _Yeah, I hope it was the business of divorcing your adulterous ass, Ally McCheat._

The two women looked at each other and realized they had absolutely nothing else to say each other.

"Well, I won't keep you from . ." _carrying your lying, sneaking butt out of town and never coming back._

"Yeah, it was . . ."

They both made vague goodbye gestures, and Lorelai turned back to the diner, taking a deep breath before walking through the door. It was empty, with the exception of Kirk sitting at the counter fiddling with his new PDA and Lane standing behind the counter filling napkin dispensers. Luke was nowhere in sight.

"Hi, Lorelai," Lane smiled. 

"Hey, Lane." Lorelai looked around, thinking that Luke might walk out from the back at any minute. When he didn't, she walked up to the counter and took a seat. "Luke around?" She hoped she sounded casual.

Lane nodded her head toward the stairs. "He's upstairs, and I don't think he's coming down for a while. He seemed pretty worked up about something. He told me not to disturb him unless it was a matter of life and death."

"He's distressed because Nicole just brought him divorce papers," Kirk piped up from his perch at the other end of the counter.

Lane and Lorelai both turned to face him. "Kirk, how in the world would you know something like that?" Lorelai asked.

"Because the documents she handed him were the same size and texture and contained approximately the same number of pages as the divorce papers I used to deliver when I worked as a courier for the law firm of Rains and Greenstreet. Plus, the words 'finalized' and 'I'm sorry' figured heavily in their conversation."

"He's probably right," Lane chimed in. "That would explain why Luke was so upset." She turned to Lorelai. "But, you know, I'm sure he'd like to see you, Lorelai. I could just go up and—"

"No, no, that's okay. Disturbing Luke when he doesn't want to be disturbed is kinda like getting into a cage with a white tiger. It can lead to very nasty consequences. Just ask Sigfired and Roy." Suddenly all the resolve and good intentions she'd had a few minutes earlier were gone. _Oh, yeah, that's just what he needs after a visit from the wife who cheated on him—a drop-in from another woman who could potentially screw him over._

"Tell ya what, can I just get a large coffee to go?"

"Sure." Lane poured a cup and handed it to her.

"Thanks." She handed Lane her money and slid off the stool. "Well, I've gotta get back to work. You kids play nice while the boss is gone, okay?" She practically fled out of the diner.

A minute later, Luke came stomping back down the stairs. "I can't find the stupid invoice folder anywhere," he muttered. 

"I think I saw it on the second shelf down there." Lane pointed to a spot under the counter as she rang up Lorelai's coffee. "Oh, and you just missed Lorelai."

Luke's head snapped up from where he was rummaging for the folder. "Lorelai was here?"

"Yeah, just a minute ago. She asked where you were, and I told her you were upstairs and didn't want to be disturbed."

"You did what?" He looked toward the door as if Lorelai might still be standing there. "Why would you tell her that? Why didn't you come get me?"

"Well, I was going to, but she said if you wanted to be left alone we should leave you alone."

"Yeah, but you still should have . . ." Luke ran his hands over his face and sighed. 

"Did I do something wrong?" There was concern in Lane's voice.

Luke shook his head. "No, no, it's okay. Don't worry about it." He drew another deep breath. "Look, you go on back finish unpacking those boxes. I'll take over out here."

Lane scurried back to the storeroom, and Luke stood behind the counter, staring at the door Lorelai had just walked out of a minute earlier. If he were one of those fruity New Age types who believed in signs—which he most certainly wasn't—this sure seemed to be the Universe's way of saying he and Lorelai were fated to always keep missing each other.

"You know," came a voice from the other end of the counter, "if you're having relationship problems, I might be able to help"

Luke turned slowly. He hadn't even realized Kirk was still there. "What?"

"My girlfriend says I'm very intuitive."

"Oh, really?"

"Absolutely. She says I have an uncanny ability to pick up on what people are thinking and feeling."

"Oh, yeah?" Luke walked to where Kirk was sitting and stood in front of him, crossing his arms over his chest. "So, what am I thinking and feeling right now?"

Kirk looked at Luke for a minute, then slid off his stool. "You're thinking it's time for me to go home and give Buster his heartworm medicine."

"Good answer."

**************

****

A/N: So, there you have it: Buh-bye, Digger. Don't let the door hit you on the way out, Nicole. 

I had written an actual L/J break-up scene, but it interrupted the flow of the chapter and made it way too long. I'd also written a Lorelai/Rory post-Meltdown conversation, but it turned out to be too banter-y and too Gilmore-y, if you know what I mean. Plus, I know Lorelai tells Rory almost everything, but (right or wrong) I think there's stuff about this situation—especially her deep insecurities and her image of herself as a sexual being—that even Lorelai wouldn't discuss with her kid. These are things I'd think she'd discuss with another adult. Hence, the Sookie convo.

****

Up Next: Star-gazing, gift-giving—oh, and Emily does a nice thing.


	9. Brief Encounter

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Disclaimer: Been there. Disclaimed that. Got the t-shirt.

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A/N: Thanks to everyone for the kind reviews! I'm glad to know people are still reading. Sorry for the ever-so-slight delay in getting this chapter up. Real life has rudely intruded into my fanfic writing time lately.

[Bridget Jones] And now, back to the studio . . .[/Bridget Jones]

*******************

Luke and Lorelai were able to avoid each other almost completely for the next couple of weeks, but they still caught glimpses of each other around town. He happened to look out the window of the diner one evening as she came out of Doose's with bags that were no doubt full of those frozen pizzas and nacho chips she loved so much. She saw him standing outside the diner one afternoon arguing with Taylor over hanging a flyer for the new Summer Under the Stars Festival. She'd always loved to watch Luke deliver a good Taylor smackdown, but this time she just ducked around a corner and kept walking. They caught each other's eye at a town meeting a couple of nights later, but they both looked away quickly. He'd heard she broken up with That Guy, but he still didn't go over to speak to her. Neither of them knew what there was to say. 

Luke and Lorelai may have been busy avoiding each other, but town gossip mill was churning with Luke and Lorelai Sightings.

Lane told Kirk that Luke had slipped and called her 'Lorelai' twice.

Kirk told Taylor that Luke had threatened to kill Kirk four times in one week—a 300% increase over his usual rate of once per week.

Taylor commented to Patty that with all the food Lorelai was buying at the market, there was no way she could be eating much at the diner. He hoped that now that she was away from Luke's bad influence, Lorelai would be free to express true town spirit.

Patty swore to Babette that she'd seen Lorelai standing outside the diner at 3:00 in the morning, weeping and calling Luke's name. 

Rory heard all the rumors (mostly courtesy of Lane), and she knew that for the first time most of them were pretty accurate—well, except for the one about her mom going all Catherine-on-the-moors in front of the diner at 3 AM. Her mom wasn't saying much about what had happened, but there was a sadness in her voice when they talked on the phone that hadn't been there before, even after that other fight. Things had been bad between her mom and Luke the summer after the car accident, but this was different. It was strange to think that after all the years of dancing around each other, whatever it was between her mom and Luke was finally—sort of—out in the open. Rory and Lorelai had never really talked about Luke in _that way, _except for a couple of brief moments here and there that were quickly swept under the rug. Somewhere in the back of her mind Rory had always sort of known that there was something between the two of them, and the thought had occasionally occurred to her that Luke and her mom might get together someday. It was kind of a weird thought, but a good one. She loved Luke like a second father, and she knew he'd do anything for the two of them. Rory had tried to get her mom to talk more about what had happened, but had only run up against the typical Lorelai Gilmore lines of defense—evasion, denial, and irrelevant jokes. Rory knew that pushing—especially now, when things were so touchy—would only make her mom run in the opposite direction. She decided to stay quiet and let things take their natural course. 

***********

Finally, a moment came when Luke and Lorelai couldn't avoid each other any longer. One afternoon the week before the opening, Lorelai was at the bank taking care of the inn's accounts. Luke was three or people behind her in line, waiting to make the daily deposit from the diner. They were both so absorbed in their paperwork—and in thoughts of each other—that they didn't even notice each other. As Lorelai turned to leave she was so busy looking through her papers that she didn't see Luke until she bumped into him, scattering papers all over the floor. They both bent down to pick up the mess.

"God, I'm sorry. I don't know when I became such a klutz. I mean, I don't usually go around plowing into people . . ." she trailed off when she saw who she was talking to. "I'm sorry," she said again, the tone of her voice making it clear that she was apologizing for more than bumping into him. She stayed crouched next to him and just looked at him. Her gaze roamed over his face with its usual three-day stubble, his ever-present blue baseball cap (the only one he'd worn since she'd given it to him) and his eyes, which were at the moment gazing deeply into her own. Her eyes flickered down to his lips, and her breath caught at the memory of how those lips had felt when he'd kissed her.

Luke was staring back just as intently. Lorelai looked pale and tired, but to him she was still beautiful and his heart beat faster just looking at her. It was all he could do to stop himself from reaching out and pushing back the stray strand of hair that had fallen in her face. He was so close to her he could smell her perfume, and the combination of the proximity and that unique Lorelai scent were making it hard for him to breathe. 

Finally, they stood up. Luke gave her back her papers, and he noticed that her hands were shaking when she took them from him.

"So . . ." she began.

"How've you been?"

"Oh, good. Good. Just really busy. You?"

"Same old, same old."

"Right."

"Yeah."

"Well . . ." she stared into his eyes for a long moment. "I'd better go."

Lorelai brushed past him and walked quickly out the door. Luke stood frozen for a few seconds, his Inner Voice screaming at him. _Do something, dummy! Go after her! Don't let her walk away!_

He rushed out the door and saw her a few feet down the sidewalk. "Lorelai!"

There was an urgency in Luke's voice that Lorelai hadn't heard before, and she fought a rising tide of hope as she turned to face him. "Yeah?"

At the expectant look on Lorelai's face, Luke's mind went blank. "I . . . um . . ." He searched his brain for something—anything—to say. "I, uh, saw that PBS is doing some kind of documentary or something on famous women who went to Yale." _Where did that come from?_ "I was just thinking that, uh, you know, since Rory's a woman and she goes to Yale, you might want to tell her about it." _The hell?!?_ "Or, you know, since you're Rory's mom you might want to . . . you know, watch it. Or tape it. Or something." He stood there helplessly, praying for the first time in his life that Taylor would come by and want to discuss another of his harebrained town spirit ideas. Or that Kirk would come around the corner with all those stupid dogs he was still walking. Anything to distract them from the disaster this moment was fast becoming.

Lorelai's face fell for just a second, then she managed to paste on a smile. _What'd you expect, that he'd start singing "You're Just Too Good to be True" accompanied by the Padua High marching band?_ "Yeah, I'd heard about that. We're gonna tape it and save it for the archives—or at least keep it until they remake it ten years from now and Rory's one of the Famous Women. But thanks for the heads-up."

"Oh, yeah. Sure. Anytime." Luke shoved his hands in his jeans pockets, feeling like an idiot. This was not the way he'd wanted this to go.

They stood there staring at each other for a moment, then turned and walked off in opposite directions.

*********************

Over the next few days, Lorelai threw herself even more deeply into work on the inn. The grand opening was set for Saturday night, and the "to do" lists were slowly becoming shorter and fewer in number. This was mostly because Lorelai was meeting—or at least speaking —with her mother every day, and Emily wasn't about to let even the smallest detail fall through the cracks. When the whole Emily-plans-the-opening thing had first come about, Lorelai had tried to tell herself that her mother was feeling a little lost and needed something to keep her busy. But the truth was that with Rory away and Luke pretty much out of her life, Lorelai was the one who was feeling lost. For the first time in her memory, Lorelai needed her mother around—even if she couldn't actually admit it.

For her part, Emily had been a revelation. Yes, she had been her usual exacting, imperious self. She knew just how the opening celebration should go, and she had expected Lorelai and Sookie and everyone else to defer to her on all opening-related matters. But this time she had seemed to leave Lorelai herself alone. There had been no snide comments about Lorelai's appearance, no barbed remarks about how much time she did—or didn't—spend with Emily and Richard, and no accusations about hiding a new relationship from her. Over the weeks they had worked together Emily had often been downright _kind_ to Lorelai. It was if she knew that her daughter was going through some kind of crisis and for once her maternal instinct told her give her some space. 

In fact, Emily held out on mentioning anything until the Tuesday night before the gala. She and Lorelai were sitting in Lorelai's kitchen going over last minute details for the opening night. Emily had been talking for about half an hour, going over to-do lists, florist contracts and the arrangements for the string quartet, when she realized Lorelai wasn't listening to a word she said. She decided to take matters in her own hands.

"So, anyway, I think the purple balloons will look absolutely lovely with the orange and blue streamers."

"Uh-huh." Lorelai sat doodling absently on a pad of paper.

"And we can start the 'little people' floorshow just before we tap the keg."

"Yeah, that would work."

"Lorelai."

"Yeah?"

"You haven't been paying attention to anything I've just said, have you?"

"Sure I have."

"Then why did you just agree to have dancing midgets and a keg of Budweiser at your inn's grand opening?"

"What?!?"

Emily laid down her pen with a sigh. "Lorelai, what's wrong?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I may not be Rory or any of your Stars Hollow friends, but I am your mother. And this may come as a shock you, but I do notice—and care—when you're upset about something." When Lorelai didn't reply, she decided to plunge right in. "It's Luke, isn't it? Your friend from the diner?"

Lorelai's eyes widened. "How in the _world_ did you . . ."

Emily shrugged. "Well, I know your break-up with Jason was a non-event, so this is obviously not about him."

"How the _hell_ did you even know I was seeing Jason, let alone that we broke up? What, do you have psychic powers along with your powers of manipulation and humiliation?"

"How I know is not important," Emily replied, not wanting to admit that Jason had broken down and confessed everything to Richard. "The point is that whatever is bothering you is obviously very important to you. Now, Rory's doing beautifully, and the inn's coming along very smoothly, and if I must say, you and I have been getting along quite well, so that leaves Luke."

"So, what? Luke's one of my top four priorities?"

"Isn't he?"

The unexpected kindness in Emily's voice broke down Lorelai's already weakened defenses, and she started crying uncontrollably. "I don't know what to do, Mom. Everything's so screwed up and it's all my fault."

"I'm sure it's not all your fault."

"Yes it is," Lorelai sobbed. "I was so afraid of feeling anything for him or getting close to him that I just kept pushing him away and pushing him away and now he hates me. I can't make it right, and I just don't know what to do." She buried her face in her hands and kept crying.

Emily sat quietly, watching her daughter with a look of compassion she rarely let others see. After a moment she straightened in her chair and took a deep breath, as if she'd just reached a decision. "Well, I must say, Lorelai, I don't know if I've ever been more disappointed in you."

At her mother's words, Lorelai's head snapped up in shock and anger. Was she actually going to sit there and tell her how unsuitable Luke was for her? Now? "You have _got_ to be kidding me."

Emily just continued, ignoring the interruption. "Never in your life have you backed down from going after something that was really important to you, whether it was bringing up Rory on your own or wearing that hideous green nail polish to your ninth grade dance." She shook her head. "I certainly never thought you'd—what's that charming expression the kids are using now? 'Wuss out'? Yes, that's it. I never thought you'd 'wuss out' on fighting for something that meant so much to you." 

Lorelai stared at her mother in surprise as she wiped the tears from her cheeks. "So you're saying I should fight for Luke?"

"I'm saying you should fight for what makes you happy. Does Luke make you happy?"

Lorelai managed a small chuckle. "Well, aside from the never watching movies and the grumbling about town festivals and the constant criticism of my eating habits . . . Yeah, I think he could." 

"Then I think you should do what you can to be with him."

Lorelai shook her head in wonder. "I didn't think you even liked Luke."

"Lorelai, how long is it going to be before you understand that what I don't like is being kept out of the important aspects of my own daughter's life? I'll admit that I was . . ._ irked_ when I thought you were involved with him without telling me. But this man has been there for you and for Rory for years, and more importantly he seems able to make you happy. And I'd like anyone that could make my daughter happy."

"So, what do I do now?" It was the first time in her memory that Lorelai had actively sought her mother's advice.

"Well, the first thing you're going to do is go into the bathroom and splash some cold water on your face. If you don't, your eyes will be all red puffy in the morning."

Lorelai smiled. _This_ was the Emily she knew. She stood to walk out of the kitchen, then turned to look back at her mother. "That thing that you just did with the reverse psychology and the compassion and stuff? That was pretty cool."

Emily just shrugged and suddenly became absorbed in picking up the papers scattered over the table. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

*********************

On the Friday night before Opening Saturday, Lorelai sat up in bed going over the final details of the opening. Actually, the whole thing was set to off without a hitch, but Lorelai couldn't sleep and needed something to take her minds off other, non-inn-related matters. Rory wasn't coming home until the next afternoon, and the house was too quiet without her. The quiet gave Lorelai too many chances to think about things she shouldn't be thinking about. Finally, around midnight, when her eyes were about to fall out of her head and the walls of her bedrom felt like they were closing in on her, she decided to take a walk and get some fresh air. 

A few minutes later she was in the center of town, enjoying the silence and the solitude of being the only one out and about. She really, truly loved Stars Hollow. This place had become a home to her when she was young and scared and had nowhere else to go, and every person in the town, no matter how goofy or eccentric, had been a part of her's and Rory's lives. 

Tonight, though, everything seemed to remind her of Luke. There was the bench they'd sat on the night he'd held her as she'd cried about the inn, and missing Rory, and being a failure. There was the street in front of the diner where Luke had tried to take Dean's head off for hurting Rory. She glanced at the diner for a moment, but she couldn't bring herself to think about all the memories held inside it. She walked over to the gazebo, where she and Luke had shared lunch the day of the picnic basket auction. She sat down with a sigh. The memories of him—of the two of them—were everywhere. She leaned her head against a wooden post and closed her eyes, trying to make her thoughts stop.

Meanwhile, Luke sat staring out the window of his darkened apartment, drinking a beer and trying unsuccessfully not to think of Lorelai. It was a routine he'd come to perfect over the past weeks. Tonight, though, something interrupted the routine. A moving figure caught his eye, and even in the darkness he could tell it was her. He watched her for a few minutes as she made her way to the gazebo. Ever since their encounter at the bank he'd been racking his brain, trying to figure out a way to make things better between them. The sight of her walking through town by herself in the middle of the night just made him want to run downstairs and take her in his arms and tell her how much he'd missed her. 

He shoved the cheesy thought out of his head as an idea occurred to him. He walked over to his desk and picked up the small white box that had been sitting there, along with a small gift card, ever since Lorelai had told him that the opening was all set. He'd thought the gift card was a stupid idea at the time, but the pushy saleslady had insisted he take one with him. Now he was glad she had. He picked up a pen, opened the card and hastily scrawled a line. He paused before writing the second line, his heart pounding at what it was going to say. With a determined sigh he wrote the second line, put the card in its envelope and placed it in the box. After taking a final, confidence-boosting swig of his beer, he threw on his jacket, shoved the box in his pocket, and walked out the door. 

Lorelai still sat with her eyes closed, trying to get Luke out of her mind. _Okay, Lorelai, get it together. Forget about Luke and loneliness and misery and lost friendships. Go to a happy place. Think of all the good things in your life. Okay, let's see . . . I have a beautiful, well-adjusted daughter who is thriving in her ivy league college . . . Luke kissed me . . . My mother and I are actually getting along . . . Luke kissed me and I liked it . . . In less than twenty-four hours my best friend and I are going to open our own inn . . . Luke kissed me and I want him to kiss me again . . . Britney Spears will probably never star in another movie . . . I think I love Luke._

Frustrated, Lorelai ran her hands through her hair and then buried her face in them. "Oh, _God_!"

"Nah. Just one of his humble creations." Startled by the sound of Luke's voice, Lorelai looked up to see him standing in front of her. His hands were stuffed into his jacket pockets, and his face was unreadable. For a minute she was convinced she'd conjured him with her thoughts.

"What are you doing out here?" he asked, sitting down beside her on the bench.

"Actually, I was just praying to the Coffee Star."

Luke raised an eyebrow. "The Coffee Star?"

"Uh-huh." She pointed to a spot in the sky directly over the roof of the diner. "See that big, bright star right there? That's the Coffee Star, Caffeine Major." She moved her finger down and slightly to the right. "Now, that pale little weak little star right there? That's Decaf Minor. Or, as I like to call it, the 'Why Bother?' Star."

"Okay, well, thanks for the astronomy lesson." They both chuckled softly. The silliness, the banter, were familiar. Easy.

"So, why are you out here so late? Don't you turn to dust or something if you're out past 10 PM?" 

Luke shrugged. "Same as you, I guess. Couldn't sleep either." 

The combination of the late hour, fatigue, and Luke's unexpected appearance diminished some of Lorelai's defenses, and she smiled. "Yeah, but you don't take walks when you can't sleep. You drink a cup of peppermint tea and then watch CNBC for half an hour, and if that doesn't work you read this big baseball encyclopedia you keep by the bed."

He looked at her in surprise. "How the hell did you know that?"

"You told me, like, five or six years ago when I was having an epic bout of insomnia."

"Guess I've told you a lot of things."

"Me, too. Told you a lot of things, I mean."

"Yeah." They sat looking at each other, each trying to say with their eyes what they hadn't been able say in words over the previous weeks of silence and avoidance. Finally, Luke looked away.

"So, tomorrow night's the big night, huh?"

Lorelai sighed at the loss of eye contact. "Yeah. Sometimes it doesn't feel real, you know? I can't believe I'm finally going to do what I've always wanted to do. I am going. To have. My. Own. Inn.

"Well, you should believe it. You worked hard to get here. You should be proud of yourself. Which reminds me . . ." He stood up. "I really came out here because I have something for you." He pulled the box out of his pocket. "It's for the . . . I mean, I bought it before we . . .Anyway, here." He handed her the box.

Before Lorelai could say anything, Luke said goodnight and headed back toward the diner.

Lorelai drew a shaky breath and opened the box. Resting on the cotton inside was a delicate, rhinestone-encrusted dragonfly hairclip. There was also a card in Luke's impatient, masculine handwriting: 

__

I always knew you could. 

–Love, Luke 

********************

**A/N**: Okay, so, I hope that wasn't too cheesy or out of character or anything. I just wanted Luke to be able to say it without _saying_ it. Yet.

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Up Next: Denouement at the Dragonfly


	10. Grand Hotel

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Disclaimer: C'mon, it's been ten chapters. You get the idea.

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A/N: Sorry about the delay in getting this chapter up. To be honest, I was totally blocked—probably had something to do with that whole fear-of-finishing thing that's also haunting the writing of my dissertation. Plus, I've been completely wrapped up in the 'shippy goodness that is RealLuke and RealLorelai at the end of Season Four. (He can see her face! And did you see the screencap from the season finale? Squeeeee! ) 

__

Ahem. Sorry about that.

Anyway, here it is. This is my longest chapter by far, but I'm eager to get this wrapped up and get these two kids together already.

That's right, folks, this is the finale to my little tale.

The conclusion, if you will.

The climax.

The big finish.

In other words . . . the end. Enjoy.

Lorelai arrived at the Dragonfly before 7:00 the next morning, exhausted and completely wired. The stress of the opening, combined with the unexpected gift and note from Luke, had made it impossible for her to settle down to sleep when she got home the night before. Finally, after forty-five minutes of tossing and turning, she had called Rory. For the first time since the Meltdown they'd talked about everything in depth. Lorelai was relieved to finally be able to confide in her kid about everything she'd been feeling and avoiding feeling for so long. Sookie may have been her best friend, but Rory was her Rory. That night they spent nearly an hour going back and forth over whether Luke's note meant what it looked like it meant.

"_Why don't I just pass him a note at recess and ask him if he likes you or likes you-likes you?" Rory finally giggled._

"Oh, that's nice. Mock Mommy in her moment of emotional crisis. Never mind that I'm having a complete meltdown here. Who're you taking your How to be a Good Daughter lessons from these days, anyway? Christina Crawford?"

"I'm sorry," Rory continued more soberly. "It's just that it's kind of ridiculous to debate this like it's a matter for the Warren Commission or something. It's so obvious that Luke wants to be with you. He always has. Everyone knows it. I've known it since I was in high school."

Lorelai's eyes widened in shock. "What? You knew something was going on?"

"Oh, come on, Mom. You and Luke are like the Dave and Maddie of Stars Hollow—except, you know, without the off-screen temper tantrums and crappy out-of-left-field baby/miscarriage story line and stuff. I've been watching you guys dance around each other for years."

"Whoa, wait a minute. Are you telling me you've seen this . . . thing with Luke and me for years and you never felt the need to, oh, I don't know, fill me in on it?"

"Well, I knew you'd freak out and get all weird if I said anything, and then you'd do that whole pulling away and getting distant thing with him, and then nothing could ever happen with you two and we'd have to avoid him for the rest of our lives. And while your relationship with Luke may not be my business, I had to protect my diner privileges."

"Nice to know you inherited my selfless nature. Seriously, though, what makes you think I'd freak out?"

"Uh . . ."

"Okay, fine. Stupid question." At the knowledge that even her daughter had seen what she herself had refused to, Lorelai just shook her head and sighed. "This is unbelievable. Un. Believable. Have I told you how much I hate having a smart, incredibly perceptive kid?"

"Many a time. So, what are you going to do now?"

"I have no clue. That's why I called you."

"Me? I don't have any idea."

"Don't tell me that. What good is going to Yale if it doesn't teach you to solve all of your mother's romantic predicaments?"

"Well, I'm sorry, but Resolving Sexual Tension 101 was full this semester. I have to wait and take it in the fall."

"Great. My emotional life hangs on the whims of the Yale registrar's office.

"You and the whole Freshman class. Look, I guess the thing is that if you want to be with Luke you should take a chance and do it. Be with him. Don't let all that other stuff from the past scare you off." 

Lorelai sat silently for a minute. She thought about what it would be like to have Luke in her life—to really have him in her life. She thought about seeing him and talking to him and kissing him and making love to him and waking up in his arms in the morning. At the moment there was nothing she wanted more, and the thought scared the hell out of her even as it thrilled her. "I guess you're right. But you know what? Don't worry about it, I'll figure something out. . . . So, look, what about you? What about that French exam you've got tomorrow morning?"

"You mean the one I have at 8:30 this morning—as in six hours from now?"

Lorelai winced. "Ooh. Sorry, sweets."

"It's okay. I've been studying for three days straight. I feel pretty good about it."

"Well, I'm sure you'll kick some major—what's the French word for 'butt?'"

"Um, boo-tay?"

"Right. Go kick some French boo-tay."

"Ah, oui. Bien sûr, ma chère maman."

"Huh?"

"Nothing. Just a little French talk. Look, are you sure you're going to be all right?"

"Sweetie, I am nothing if not resilient. I'm going to go to sleep now, and then tomorrow, in between figuring out why three of our rooms have sucky water pressure, keeping my mother from turning my inn opening into one of her DAR fundraisers, and stopping Sookie and the caterers from killing each other, I'll figure out what to do with my emotional future. Nothing to it." 

"Well, it's good to know that you've got a plan. Hey, look, Paris just came in and she looks even more stressed than usual, so I'd better go see what's up."

"Okay, go take care of your roommate. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon?"

"Yep. Good night, Mom. I love you.

"I love you, too hon. Sweet dreams."

Sookie and Michel arrived at the Inn shortly after Lorelai, and they spent the morning taking care of all the last-minute details and putting out all the fires that were due to spring up in the twelve hours before a new business opens. Lorelai went over all the first weekend's reservations and did a check of each room to make sure it was ready for its first occupants. Michel nearly wept when he saw that his new desk and ergonomically correct chair had finally been delivered, and Sookie immediately set up a test run of her zucchini soup for the next day's menu. There wasn't much to do about the party itself—Emily had everything perfectly planned as usual. She showed up at the inn around noon, garment bag and DayPlanner in hand. The four of them sat down to a quick lunch of Sookie's soup and fresh bread, then Lorelai, Sookie and Emily spent the afternoon going over the final details for the party. As they worked Lorelai filled them in on her late-night meeting with Luke and showed them the gift and the note. It felt weird to include her mother in her 'girl talk,' but it was nice, too.

Sookie squealed when she saw the hairclip. "Oh, sweetie, that's gorgeous! See, I knew he had it in him!"

A small smile formed around Emily's lips as she read the note. "Well, he may not be much for verbal expression, but the man does have very good taste. This hair clip is really lovely. I assume you'll wear it tonight—with a nice dress, of course."

Lorelai rolled her eyes. "Actually, Mom, I thought I'd just wear cutoffs and a t-shirt and a bandanna around my hair. I mean, this whole clambake is supposed to be mondo casual, right?." But she smiled as she said it. 

Emily merely rolled her eyes back at her daughter. "Well, as long as you've already got an appropriate outfit in mind," she replied good-naturedly. 

Sookie beamed as she watched the two of them. It was the same exchange they'd had a thousand times, but this time warmth and humor had replaced the judgment and defensiveness that usually laced their words. It was a beautiful thing to see.

Lorelai left the inn around 5:00 to run home and change for the party. As she pulled up to the house she saw Rory getting out of her car, followed by an even-more-agitated-than-usual Paris.

"Hey, mom," Rory called tentatively. "I brought one more for the party. Is that okay?"

"Now, hon, what's the First Gilmore Commandment of Party Planning?"

"Never run out of those little pizza bite thingys?"

"Oh. Right. But the second commandment is 'the more people the more better.'" She kissed Rory on the head as they walked through the door, then turned to Paris. "So, how are things in Paris World?"

Paris hunched her shoulders and her hands started flailing, the first signs of a full-on Paris Rant. "Oh, they're just peachy, thanks, Lorelai. Everything's wonderful. Paris World is a world of sunflowers and puppies and rainbows and that annoying woman who sings about hills and music and raindrops. I mean, you may not be able to tell from looking at me, but I'm happy. I'm psyched that I made Dean's List, I'm thrilled that I'm away from my Amazon roommate and that pituitary case she calls a boyfriend, and I'm ecstatic that I'm not going to Oxford this summer. I mean, why in the world would I want to go to Oxford with a brilliant man when I can spend the summer at the Cape with the same boring people I've seen every summer for the last nineteen years? Yes siree bob, I'm elated that I'm not going to Oxford!" She stalked into Rory's room and slammed the door.

"The professor dumped her last night," Rory informed Lorelai.

"Aw, poor kid. But at least she's taking it really well."

"Oh, this is nothing compared to what she was at three this morning. I almost didn't make it to my French exam."

"Oooh, and how was _zee French exam?"_

"Actually, it went pretty well—" 

Suddenly, there was a crash from the other side of Rory's bedroom door. "Wise, witty, wonderful woman my ass!"

Rory heaved a sigh. "I'd better go stop her before she does any real damage."

"Yeah, good luck with that," Lorelai giggled. "Hey, look, if you guys want to ride over with me, be ready in an hour."

"Okay—assuming I can talk Paris off the ledge by then."

"Well, look at it this way—at least if she jumps she's on the first floor."

Three hours later, the Dragonfly Inn's grand opening celebration was in full swing. The crowd was a mix of Stars Hollow residents, the workers who had been part of the renovation, and a small contingent of Emily and Richard's acquaintances. "After all," Emily had reasoned, "these people travel extensively for business and for pleasure. It will be good for them to see a lovely inn firsthand so they'll have it in mind for their future plans."

Lorelai scanned the crowd of mostly familiar faces. The party had been going on for over an hour, and everyone seemed to be having a good time. Patty had cornered one of Richard's golfing buddies, oblivious to the fact that the poor man's wife was standing right next to her, staring daggers at her. Babette and Morey were in an intense conversation with Lane, no doubt about the merits of Miles Davis versus the Clash. Tom and Dean walked around admiring their handiwork, as Lindsay clung adoringly to Dean's arm. Even Taylor looked like he couldn't find anything to disapprove of. Paris was standing in a corner by herself, looking like she'd bite the head off of anyone who came near her, but that was to be expected. Lorelia's eye finally fell on Rory, who was chatting comfortably with a young Topher Grace look-alike. Lorelai vaguely recognized him as the nephew of one of Emily's less horrid DAR friends. She smiled to herself. It was about time Rory met someone who was capable of smiling and uttering a civil sentence. And who wasn't absurdly tall. 

Lorelai kept looking around the room, telling herself that she was just making sure everything was going well, but the truth was that she was looking for someone who wasn't even there. She couldn't believe that Luke wouldn't show up for something so important to her, no matter what had happened between them. And after last night she'd thought . . . But it had been an hour and a half, and still no Luke. Her heart sank as she began to think that she'd misinterpreted what had happened between them the night before. Maybe the note had just been a friendly, diner guy-to-annoying customer gesture. But he'd said _love_ . . .

A tap on her shoulder roused Lorelai from her thoughts, and she turned to see Kirk standing in front of her, holding a small sheaf of papers. Lulu stood quietly beside him. "Good evening, Lorelai. May I say that this is an absolutely splendid party."

"Uh . . . thanks, Kirk. Glad you're enjoying it."

"Oh, I am. And I was hoping to take this opportunity to give you my resume. I would love to be a part of the Dragonfly family—maybe as a waiter, or perhaps a bellboy." He handed her the papers. "As you can see, I have extensive experience in both food service and guest management."

Lorelai flipped through the resume. It was fifteen pages long. "You know, Kirk, I would love to have you here, but Michel does all of our hiring. You should talk to him."

"Michel, the scary, snooty French guy?"

"Oh, he's not scary. He just has very high standards." At that moment she saw Michel walk into the room. "Look, there he is right over there. Why don't you just go over and have a quick chat with him. I'm sure he'd love to look over your resume. In detail."

"Well, if you say so," Kirk replied, looking over at Michel with some trepidation. "Come on, Lulu."

Lorelai couldn't help giggling as she watched Kirk make his way over to the "scary, snooty French guy." She loved toying with Michel's head as much as she loved playing with Kirk's. The chance to mess with them both at the same time was just a bonus she couldn't pass up. She was still smiling a moment later when her mother approached her. 

"Well, Lorelai, everything's going beautifully. You should be very proud of yourself."

"Yeah, especially since you organized the whole thing," Lorelai chuckled.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it," Emily replied quietly.

"I know. And I appreciate everything you've done, I really do." She smiled warmly at her mother. "I'm glad you're here, Mom."

"Yes, well . . ." Emily blushed and looked around the room, flustered at this overt show of affection from her daughter. Suddenly her gaze stopped just over Lorelai's shoulder, and a small, self-satisfied grin spread over her face. Lorelai turned to follow Emily's glance, and she saw Luke standing in the entryway. Watching her.

"Oh, dear," Emily said a little too quickly. "Your father's stuck at the bar with Preston Curtis. I'd better go rescue him before he signs us up for _three_ tables at the next Historical Society dinner." She gave Lorelai an awkward-yet-encouraging pat on the arm and walked off.

Lorelai's heart started pounding as Luke walked toward her. It was always a shock to see him out of his usual flannel-and-baseball-cap uniform, and now that she knew that she felt . . . what she felt for him, it was even more unnerving. He was wearing the suit she'd bought him the day of the Great Million Percent-Off Shopping Spree, with a nice white shirt and no tie. Even though he was dressed for the occasion, though, he hadn't shaved. Lorelai found the combination of spiffy and scruffy incredibly sexy. She felt her face flush just the tiniest bit as she thought about how much she wanted to feel that stubble against her cheek again.

Luke's heart was beating just as rapidly as he approached Lorelai. He'd been standing in the doorway for a few minutes, just watching her. He'd grinned as he watched her maneuver Kirk over to that fruity French clown. He knew her well enough to know she was setting up the poor schmuck—well, both of them— for something really devious. And he'd been surprised but pleased to see Lorelai and her mother getting along so well. Something good had obviously happened between the two of them, and maybe Lorelai would finally be able to build the relationship with her mother she'd always wanted.

As he got closer, he was nearly knocked over by how beautiful she looked. The blue in her dress made her eyes sparkle, and her hair fell in long, loose curls against her bare shoulders. Man, he wanted to touch her hair. And her shoulders. Hell, he just wanted to touch _her_. He couldn't help smiling a little when he saw she was wearing the hair thingamabob he'd given her. He'd stayed up all night wondering if giving her a gift—let alone that note—had been a stupid move. He didn't want to scare her off, but he wanted to let her know how he felt. He'd started to panic a little when she didn't show up at the diner all day, but then he realized how ridiculous he was being. Of course she wouldn't have time to come by, not with everything going on at the inn. But now that he was here, he still had no idea what she was thinking. _Just go with it, man. Just play it out and see what happens._

"Hey," he said with a nervous smile. "Some shindig."

She smiled back just as timidly. "Yeah, well, if there's one thing Emily Gilmore knows how to do, it's throw a fancy soiree. Give her a loft in the Village and strap some Manolo Blahniks on her and she'd be a faaabulous Manhattan party planner." She paused for a minute. "I was beginning to think you weren't going to make it," she said more quietly, looking down at her feet. She hoped it didn't sound like an accusation.

Luke's eyes widened slightly. Had she missed him? "Oh, yeah. Sorry about that. Ceasar's mom is sick so he was late, and since you hijacked my only other employee for your little get-together, I had to hang out until he could get there. In fact," he said, looking at his watch, "I can't stay very long. I told him I'd come back and close up so he could get back to his mom."

"Oh." In an effort to hide her disappointment, Lorelai started babbling. "Well, at least you got here for a little while. Hey, you've got to be sure to try the lobster puffs while you're here. They're really, really good. Of course, don't tell Sookie I said so, 'cause she thinks she's the only chef in the Northeast who can do a decent lobster puff. If she finds out I even ate one she'll probably stop talking to me for a week." She sighed and looked down at her feet. _Why is this so hard? It's never this hard for Meg Ryan. Well, yeah, but Meg Ryan movies are sentimental, anti-feminist propaganda and we hate them, right? Right._

Luke stood in silence, feeling just as awkward. Finally, he cleared his throat. "So, I'm glad you liked the, uh, whaddyacallit," he said, pointing to the clip in Lorelai's hair.

Lorelai smiled. "Yeah, I do. It's perfect. And very symbolic."

"Yeah, well, that's me. Mr. Symbolism." They stared at each other, then they both started speaking at once.

"Luke, do you—"

"Listen, I—"

They both grinned, and Luke stepped a little closer to her. "I just wanted to say that—"

"Lorelai, you're never going to believe this!" Sookie came rushing up to them, shattering the moment.

"Sweetie, can it wait, 'cause—"

"Oh, sure, it can wait. I mean, it's only a guy from the _New York Times_ Sunday magazine here to interview us," Sookie beamed.

"What? Are you serious? Why is he here? How does he even know about us?" There was genuine surprise and excitement in Lorelai's voice. Even Luke was impressed.

"Well, the fall travel magazine is going to have a feature on renovated historic inns, and this guy got a call about us and the Dragonfly and he thought we'd be perfect for the story."

"Wait, wait. He 'got a call'?" Lorelai shook her head. "This stinks of my mother's $200-an-ounce perfume."

"Oh, who cares why he's here? The point is he's _here_. _The New York freakin' Times_!" Sookie tugged at Lorelai's arm. "Come on, before he changes his mind and leaves."

Lorelai turned to Luke, truly torn. "I guess I'd better . . ."

"Go," he said with a small grin. "Be famous."

"Oooh," Sookie squealed as she dragged Lorelai off. "This is gonna be so great! Do you think he'd want to try some of my zucchini soup, or . . ."

Luke sighed as he watched them walk out of the lobby. Yep, fate could definitely be a bitch sometimes.

The _Times_ guy was just as nice and just as condescending as Lorelai had expected a big-time newspaper guy to be. He spent over an hour with Lorelai and Sookie, asking about the history of the inn and its renovation while his photographer took pictures of the renovations. Lorelai was thrilled think that the Dragonfly would be put on the map so soon, but she was dying to get back to Luke. She felt her Aspiring Businesswoman side playing tug-of-war with her Maybe-Not-So-Hopeless Romantic After All side, and neither side was winning. Actually, she felt very much like Steve Martin in _All of Me_. 

By the time she got back to the party, Luke had gone.

A few hours later, Lorelai sat on the back porch of the Inn, enjoying the warm night air. The party had broken up about a half hour earlier, and the catering crew were just finishing cleaning up. Lorelai had sent Sookie and Jackson home to Davy, her parents upstairs to the Starlight Room, and Rory, Lane and Paris to the Fran Weston Suite for a good-old-fashioned girlie slumber party (hopefully spending the night with Rory and Lane would calm Paris down a little.) Before the girls went upstairs, Rory had managed to take Lorelai aside and tell her that the guy's name was Ben, he was a junior at Yale, and she'd given him her phone number. Lorelai was happy to see Rory so excited over a new guy. It had been way too long.

She sighed, thinking of her own screwed-up love life. She was sure Luke had been about to say something important, but then Stupid Reporter Guy showed up with all his "Oh, is this the original woodwork?" and his "So, tell us about your menu." And if she knew Luke—and she did—even if he _had_ had something to say, he'd let it go once the moment had passed. Like that time when Sookie and Jackson were on their first date. She'd been certain Luke was trying to ask her out, then Mrs. Kim showed up and—poof!—he never said anything about it again. That was just the way he was. She leaned against the porch rail and sighed.

"Wait, don't tell me. This time you're wishing on the French Toast Star." Lorelai's breath caught in her throat at the sound of Luke's voice. She looked up and there he was, standing right in front of her just like he had the night before. He'd ditched the jacket, but he still had on the dress shirt and pants.

"We've gotta stop meeting like this," Lorelai joked, trying to keep her pulse from racing. _What is he doing here?_ "I thought you were long gone."

"Well, I was. But then I figured you'd still be here. And if you were still here you'd be completely wired. And if you were wired you weren't gonna go to bed any time soon. And if you weren't going to bed any time soon, you'd need this." He held out a cup of coffee.

For some reason, this simple gesture, which spoke so completely to who they were to each other, broke Lorelai's heart. She was horrified to find herself crying uncontrollably. 

At the sight of Lorelai's tears, Luke's first impulse was to run. _Aw, jeez, what did I do now?_ "Hey, hey, it's only coffee," he said, setting the cup down on the porch. "It's not even my best stuff. I forgot to put the nutmeg in it." He sat down beside her and took her in his arms, just like he'd done the night of her Meltdown in the Park.

"It's not the coffee," Lorelai sobbed. "It's the not _having_ the coffee, and the not talking and the not seeing you and—God, I've missed you so much!" She clutched the thin fabric that covered Luke's back and buried her face in his shoulder. 

"I've missed you, too." He replied, gently stroking her hair.

Lorelai sat up, furiously wiping the tears from her face. "So, do you think we could get back to the way things were?" she asked urgently. "I mean, I know I've said and done some horrible things—believe me, I'm gonna start a website where I confess to all my sins. I'm thinking www.lorelaisucks.com. But I just . . .I mean . . . Do you think we could at least be friends again?"

Luke stared into her eyes and sighed. If he let this go now, if he let them slip back into being friends, then that was it. He'd have to pretend from here on out that he didn't want anything else. Well, to hell with pretending. He shook his head slowly. "Lorelai, I don't wanna be friends anymore."

Lorelai was struck with a sudden memory of the time Rory, in an uncharacteristic fit of athletic ambition, had kicked a soccer ball and accidentally hit Lorelai in the stomach. Only this hurt about a billion times worse. "Oh. Okay, then. Well, I should . . . Yeah. I think I'm just gonna . . ." She stood up to walk away.

"Wait, wait, wait. That's not what I meant." Luke grabbed her arm and pulled her back down.

"No, really, it's okay. I understand—"

"No, you don't understand. Now would you please, for once, just shut up and listen to me for a second?" He sighed. _She never did make things easy, did she?_ "What I mean is, I don't want to be _just_ friends. I can't be just your friend. Not anymore."

Lorelai studied Luke's face, looking for some indication that he'd just said what she thought he'd just said. "So, you want to be . . . more than friends?"

Luke nodded. "Yes. I do."

"So, you like me?"

"Against my better judgment, I'm afraid I do."

A small smile began to play at the corner of Lorelai's mouth. "So, do you _like-me_-like me?"

"Aw, jeez—" Luke knew he was fast losing control of the conversation. And the thing is, he didn't really mind. "Yeah, I guess I _like you_-like you."

Lorelai looked into his eyes, wondering if she should push things an extra step. "So," she said more seriously, "does that mean you . . .?"

Luke's eyes widened and he swallowed hard, but he nodded. "Yeah," he said quietly. "I do."

Lorelai smiled. Now that she knew how he felt, she couldn't help teasing him just a _little_ bit. "I dunno, Luke. I'm afraid you're gonna have to spell it out for me, 'cause I'm not really sure what you're trying to say here."

"Aw, man . . ."

Lorelai thought for a moment. She knew he wanted to say it, and she new she needed to hear it. He just needed a little help. An idea came to her. "Okay, let's make this easier. So, you remember that note you gave me?"  


"Yes."

"Well, did you—"

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, I meant what I wrote."

"Well, yeah, but did you—"

"Yes, I meant it _that way_." 

Lorelai put her hand over his. "Luke . . ." she prodded gently.

Luke took a deep breath and looked at her. "I love you, Lorelai. I'm _in love_ with you." Luke had always thought saying those words to her would be terrifying. But as soon as soon as they left his mouth, he felt nothing but peace. Whatever might happen, he knew he'd done the right thing.

He looked up at Lorelai. Her face was glowing and her eyes were sparkling. "Wow," she breathed. Luke thought she looked like a little girl who'd just seen her first 4th of July fireworks.

Suddenly, Lorelai took both Luke's hands in hers and jiggled them up and down excitedly. "Hey, you know what's really cool about this whole thing?"

"What?"

Lorelai leaned forward until her cheek was pressed against Luke's and her lips were brushing his ear. "I love you too," she whispered.

Luke pulled back and searched her face, as if trying to see whether she really meant it. When he saw the love shining in Lorelai's eyes, a huge smile broke out across his face. Lorelai was stunned. She'd seen Luke smirk before, and she'd seen him grin. She'd even seen him chuckle a couple of times. But she'd never seen him smile—not like that. That smile transformed him. At that moment, Luke was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. 

They sat there beaming at each other for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, Lorelai giggled. "Ya know, I think we're missing our cue."

"Cue?"

"Uh-huh. We've got the moonlight, and the warm night, and the flowers, and the boy and the girl, and the 'I love you's.' Now, I know you're Mr. I've Never Seen a Romantic Movie, but what we have here is your classic set-up for the Big Kiss. It's in all the movies."

Luke grinned. "Well, far be it from me to argue with a hundred years of Hollywood history," he said huskily, leaning forward to capture her lips with his. 

Now, most people would expect that this, the first real kiss between the hero and the heroine, would be all fireworks and Puccini arias and waves crashing. But that wasn't the case here. This was the warm, gentle, but still completely breathtaking kiss of two people who had finally realized just how much they loved each other. Lorelai thought it felt like coffee and warm pie and a favorite song on the radio, all rolled together and multiplied by a hundred. Luke just thought it felt like coming home.

Lorelai pulled back and smiled. "Hey, we're really good at this."

"No arguments here." Luke pulled her back for another kiss. This one was deeper and more intense. Tongues explored mouths and hands tangled in hair and roamed over backs and arms and hips. After a few minutes, they broke apart panting.

"You know," Lorelai breathed, "I just happen to know that there are a couple of empty rooms in this here newly renovated historic inn."

Luke raised an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah?"

"Uh-huh." Lorelai reached up and stroked his cheek. "And I have it on very good authority that the owner of this here newly renovated historic in is totally hot for you."

Luke grinned. "I always thought Sookie had a thing for me. All that passion just got sublimated into her cooking."

Lorelai laughed and swatted his arm. "Don't let Jackson hear you talk like that, or he'd liable to get violently protective again."

"Oh, yeah. It worked so well last time."

"I know—'aaarggh, Luuuuke!'" Lorelai giggled for a second, then turned serious. "So . . ." she said quietly, "what do you think?"

"Well . . ." Luke really wanted to. _Boy_ did he want to. But something told him to give this thing some time. 

Lorelai could sense his hesitation. "Too much too soon?"

Luke let out a breath. "Yeah. It's not that I don't want to." He kissed her deeply to show just how much he wanted to. "It's just a little quick. Are you mad?"

"No," she smiled. "In fact, I'm relieved."

"Oh, gee thanks."

"Oh, listen, I totally want to." She kissed _him_ deeply to show just how much _she_ wanted to. "It's just that every relationship I've ever screwed up has been screwed up by moving to fast. And I don't want to screw this up. I don't want to lose us."

Luke smiled and kissed her softly. "You won't. I won't let you."

"Good." She leaned her forehead against his. "I really, really don't want to be away from you tonight, though."

"Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere." Luke shifted so that Lorelai's head was resting on his shoulder, and he wrapped his arms around her.

They sat that way for a long time, just holding each other—and yes, kissing—and not saying much of anything. They knew there was still a lot to talk about and a lot to work through. She still tended to run away when she was scared, and he was still apt to retreat into his cave when he got hurt. They still had to survive their first Friday Night Dinner together, not to mention find a way to function as a couple in the fishbowl that was Stars Hollow. And God only knew if anyone outside a Rob Reiner movie had ever really been able to transform over a decade of friendship into True Love. But somehow, they knew that they had each other and that the rest of it would eventually work out.

That night they just sat there. Together.

-END-

****

A/N: And they lived pretty much happily ever after. 

Well, kids, I have had an absolute blast writing this. I thank everyone who has reviewed for your kind words and encouragement. Without you guys I don't think I would have kept up writing my little saga. Y'all rock. You truly do.

And I just want to end with a challenge to all the great Luke/Lorelai fanfic writers out there (and you know who you are). C'mon, gang! We need more good Java Junkie stories! 


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